When I was ten years old, I really, really wanted to be Herb Alpert and play cool tunes on the trumpet. Oh, and be served a cocktail by a beautiful woman reclining on the wing of a biplane.

This past weekend I downloaded Going Places and Whipped Cream and Other Delights, then spent a lazy sunny afternoon driving around town on the motorcycle listening to these great sounds from my childhood. Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass had such a unique, distinctive style. Their tight arrangements and infectious melodies made them one of the greatest pop music groups of the mid 1960s. After a run through of both of these albums, I wanted to put on some nice clothes and have a martini. But it was Sunday and I was out of vermouth. (Sadly, no booze may be purchased in Texas on Sunday.)