Yeah, I was 20 once. We drove out to Colorado from Illinois. I bounced all the way there in the back of a old Mustang that had the leg room of a dog crate built for a poodle. We "ate" at places like Stuckey's and Waffle House. When we got there we slept in a cheap $hit Coleman sleeping bag and froze our asses off. "Breakfast" was a cold potato left on a rock the night before next to the campfire. The next mornings slime on your teeth was washed away by a can of pop in a cooler that didn't need any ice.
Now I'm 58. My back and knees hurt. If there is a hotel within 50 miles, I'll be in it! I want a nice hot breakfast brought to me by a bleached blonde waitress in a short skirt with too much eye makeup, young enough to be my daughter, or grand daughter. I want some guy who's lived there for his whole life with 5 teeth in his entire mouth to show me where the game is. I don't give a rat's ass what he charges me to find it. After I shoot it, I want to pay someone else to haul it out, butcher it, and mount it, and send it to me in a nice, well packed box.
After I get older I will pay for someone to push my old fat ass out in a wheelchair, let the "game" out of the pen, and I'll blast it with my $8,000.00 Super Magnum. Then do the other things. You may call that "spoiled". In reality it is just getting old and having more money than ability. Trust me, we'll all be there some day. Bill T.