When I was a lad, there were a few people around Big Sandy who always seemed to be somewhere nearby. On the one hand, they were like the buttons on an old coat, maybe a little bit frayed, maybe the stitching was a little loose, but if it got cold out, if you felt a chill, you could count on them to close the gap for you. On the other hand, they were kind of like the fleas on a dog's back – always there, totally reliable in a sense, but you also knew they might haul off and bite you. You just didn't know when.
One of those people was Harley Hurd. First thing I want to say about Harley is that h...
