College Football. Tailgate. Fall.

There's nothing quite like the beginning of fall. The hot summer days fading fast into cool nights, crisp air, tailgates, orange and purple skies, outlined by the newly found colors of autumn. The weekends become consumed with college football, the largest stadiums in all of America decorated in each school's colors, the spirit and enthusiasm of a youthful stage in one's life, sometimes 4 years, for others a couple more. Reminiscent of all the classes you skipped, slept in, forgot about, the happy hours you throroughly enjoyed, the frat house, the tailgates, the weekends you'll never remember with the friends you'll never forget. The maturation process you undertook while learning who you were, quite possibly the most impressionable stage of life leading up to your adulthood. Something so western, so american, nothing quite like a college football game. Back in the day it was gladiators battling to the death, now just as barbaric we see super-specimen of the human race trying to get the ball past the goal line all while getting hit as hard as possible from the opposing team. For many though, it isn't even about the game. It is about gettting together with your friends, sharing the camaderie, telling old stories, making new ones, hanging out with generations before you, as well as after you, all enjoying a couple brews and celebrating where you are in the game of life. Fall signifies all that, the ending of another quarter, my favorite quarter. I do not live in Michigan for the winters, where everything dies, and I become thoroughly depressed. For me it's fall, the crisp air, the cool nights, and one of my favorite hobbies, tailgating.