Late one recent evening, Bragg is sitting in the sunken living room of his home ("I built it for $120,000, and I'll bet it's worth $350,000 now"). A gentle wind is blowing, and beyond a glass wall the waves on "Bragg's Lake" can be heard slapping the shore. "I'm like a flighty thoroughbred," he says. "I don't make a good pet. I know I'm an argumentative sort of person. But a man should have one foot on the ground and one foot off—one as an anchor, one for the need to be free. I want to live like I want to live, not how other people want me to live.
"Funny thing, though, I still don't know what I want to be."