Nichole — and, for that matter, anyone who knows me — will attest to the fact that I like some strange things. There are even times when I look back and think: “Hmm, maybe that was a little strange.”

Perfect example: In 1994, on any given day, my attire may have consisted of a Neil Young T-shirt, leather vest, high-top hiking shoes, flannel shorts and tall socks. There’s picture proof of this very outfit. Just ask Nichole.

Anyway, I like some odd things, but sometimes the things I like are just what I like to call “out of time.” In other words, things that seem to fit me regardless of what time period they are from. I never really felt like a Gen X-er or for that matter a Gen Y-er. The tags never felt comfortable. Nichole would say that I was born a decade late and that I missed my prime window: the 1970s. I tend to like books from the 70s (Child of God = creepy), movies from the ’70’s (“Jaws,” “Vanishing Point,” “The Sting“), music from the ’70s (as I write this I am listening to “I Got A Name” by Jim Croce, and the last song was “Kid Charlemagne” by Steely Dan). The latter is what got me thinking about writing this post: I was having one of those “out of time” feelings. Because I’m sitting here thinking the following: “I sure wish I could go home and watch some ‘Rockford Files.’ ”

I adore “The Rockford Files.” I remember watching re-runs with my dad back in the day, and I have been a fan ever since. I watched all the TV movies on first run back in the ’90s. And when they began releasing the series on DVD last year … all I can say is, a tear formed in my eye. I don’t know what it is I like so much about the show. Maybe it’s the writing, which really is quite good. Maybe it’s James Garner. Who knows.

We are now the proud owners of seasons 1-4. Soon season 5 will be ours, oh yes it will.

If you ever want to watch the show and understand the fascination, complete with cheesy intros, come on over and we’ll settle back and watch together. Because, quite honestly, there is nothing better than kicking back with a tall drink after a long day, Poppy asleep, dishes washed from dinner, knowing that all I have to do now is let Mike Post take me away to Rockford land. Trust me, you’ll be glad you came.

Oh, and right now in my headphones, Styx is beckoning me to “Come Sail Away.”

(Thanks for sending me the link, Kristi!)

There’s a public-access channel in Columbia that used to run locally produced movies late at night. For the most part, these movies made no sense whatsoever. And so, while I might watch a few minutes of them, I never watched one in its entirety.

Now imagine you have four or five channels. And they’re all showing public-access movies. And you’re flipping through all of your channels, hoping against hope that something that makes sense will come on your TV screen. Instead, you’re bombarded, in 20-second bursts, with: