Growing up, as we were starting to hit drinking age (you know, 17 or 18) the legend of Coors started. We didn't get it in Illinois. It was confined, apparently, to the Rocky Mountain region. The word was that it was liquid gold.
I was on a camping trip to Colorado. I managed to get some Coors. This was before all the current crops of "Lite" beers. On the can, it read, "America's Fine Light Beer," or something like that.
I sipped. From my mouth came the words, "Oh, man, that's really good," while inside the brain was the reaction, "I'm not sure that if I blind-tested this with Bud or PBR that I could tell the difference."
Well. I live in Colorado now. And Coors is nationwide. And there's no wondrous difference between it and the other standardized beers out there. In fact, Coors, like Bud, is part of an international corporation now, while those of us who look for grand taste in beers keep close to the offering of the multitude of craft beers that we have available.
Just another of life's lessons in mystique, harsh reality, commercialism, and observational bias.
