I started smoking when I was a bored and lonely 17-year-old irrigating
alfalfa fields in Utah for money and reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle
Maintenance for enlightenment. I smoked watching magpies splash in the
ditch, and for 20 years I kept sucking those nasty things for reasons of
self-loathing and distraction, and mainly because I couldn’t stop. In 1996,
just before my son was born, I put a lid on it. I wasn’t going to contaminate
my babies with second-hand smoke. And it wasn't hard...