The Cats' Whiskers: Down Home with Z.Z. Top

HOUSTON, OCTOBER: THE MONSOON SEASON in this blandly corporate boomtown. I descend through hot storms over a chrome metropolis built on flat sand and oil deposits, all hopes of snaring the bearded boogiemen of Z.Z. Top in their appropriate Texan climate rent apart by vicious cracks of lightning. Visions of boiler suits and souped-up stock cars with mad whale-tail fins against deep blue sky are washed away in the relentless rain. Z.Z. Top will be indoors, watching TV, thawing out frozen tacos.