My 19 year boycott of Coors Lite
My recent trip to Riding Mountain National Park brought back an old memory. Something I hardly even think of any more.
The story I have to tell here is 100% factual. I swear to you there are no exaggerations or embellishments -it's just one of those things that can happen to a person.
Nineteen years ago, in the late summer of '93 I set off on a road trip. My job at the time consisted of dealing with other people's problems so I was grateful to load up my brand new truck camper and depart my Southern Ontario home using the navigating-by-flipping-a-coin method. This eventually brought me to the beautiful area in west-central Manitoba.
I had always liked Coors Lite. It had a sparkling, refreshing taste, was popular with the ladies and made for a fine breakfast beer. So that was my beverage of choice in the camper fridge. But by the time I reached Riding Mountain, I was down to two cans of the stuff.
No big deal. I would have my fire and slowly savour the two remaining cans then trundle off to bed.
I remember it was a still night. Clear and warm. Elk could be heard bugling in the distance and coyotes howled somewhere on the mountain nearby.
What could be finer than to enjoy the solitary splendor of the Canadian wilds with a cheery campfire and a refreshing beverage?
I reached for my second -and last- can of beer, popped the tab and raised it to my lips.
Nothing came out. This thing can't be frozen, I wondered. It's not very cold.
Suddenly a loud voice shattered the night's calm.
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE WON THE COORS LITE TALKING CAN CONTEST! TO CLAIM YOUR PRIZE, PLEASE CALL 1 800 BLAH BLAH BLAH AND FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS. CALL NOW!
And then it started over. And again.
In fact, it wouldn't shut up. I didn't want a talking can, dammit! All I wanted was a cold beer! They could keep their stinking contest. I had a two year old 4X4 pickup, a brand-new camper, I was a studly 26-year-old with a good-paying job -I didn't need to win anything!!!
All I wanted was my last beer...
I couldn't pitch the can into the woods and it still wouldn't shut up so I finally stuffed it deep behind the seat of my pickup under some blankets.
Then I went back to my fire, my cheery reflective mood somewhat the worse for wear.
The next day I was back on the road. I love to drive and my spirits were restored as the country rolled by and Garth Brooks wailed away on the radio.
Do you know how you get so attuned to a piece of equipment you use all the time that even the slightest nuance is noticeable to you? The sort of thing that's impossible to explain to your mechanic.
Something wasn't right with my truck. I could sense it.
So off went the radio and I quickly rolled up the window and then I listened.
And listened. Until faintly from behind me I heard, faint and muffled:
congratulations! you have won the coors lite talking can contest....
Amazingly, that can made it all the way home with me without being tossed out the window or pounded flat with my axe. Somewhere enroute, it finally stopped chirping.
So I'm back home. I figure I may as well call and see what it is I won.
I called and wound up on one of those endless "press 1", enter your phone humber and press the star key", press ....
After 15 minutes of that, the line was disconnected.
This can was on the verge of being taken out back and shot like Old Yeller.
But my brother was visiting with his family and my niece asked if she could give it a go.
She stuck at it and eventually hung up smiling.
"Uncle Don, you won four CDs. They'll mail you a list to pick from."
This was 1993. I didn't even own a CD player at the time.
The list duly arrived in the mail a week or so later. I scanned it.
Country&Western? Nope. R&B?? Nossir. At least some freaking Sinatra???! Not a chance.
I hadn't heard of one group on the list. They appeared to be what was passing for popular music in those days. Teenagers with shaggy hair, questionable hygiene and zero talent.
My niece was enthused with the choices.
So I gave her the list. And the can.
Then I went to the beer store and bought a case of anything but Coors Lite.
And to this day, nineteen years later, when I sit at my fire reflecting on the mysteries of the universe, and I pop the tab on a cold one, a tiny voice in my subconscious sings that little jingle....
"This Bud's for you."
And that's why I don't and won't buy Coors Lite anymore.
True story. I swear it.
2009 Jeep Wrangler Unlimited
2012 Flagstaff T10RD