A red bandanna on a Black Lab's neck. An old, beat-up Martin Guitar getting passed around a campfire. Bruce Springsteen blaring over a jukebox in a rundown dive bar on the corner of Matlack and Neilds. A deranged madman flying a kite in the middle of a lightning storm. A coupla crazy forefathers, thinking they could defeat the reigning superpower of Mother Earth. There's only a few things in this world more American than the aforementioned, and among those chosen few is an elixir unique to America itself - bourbon, the only form of whiskey that mandates production in one of these fifty United States of America in fresh, first-timer oak barrels.