The universe was taking me apart- an existential picking of the bones underway. This blog is about bikes and who cares about the weird dreams you had last night or the 3:00 A:M “Why am I here and what am I doing?” conversations with the hooded shadows hanging from the closet door. You want real problems? Move to Mogadishu, or Gretna, FL.
So an unexpected visit from family was most welcome, a little change of energy, a little fresh blood, a little get outside of yourself.
The Great Magnet will drag you to heel, that’s for sure. I now find myself 300 miles from my home sitting at my Mom’s kitchen counter while she sleeps away the flu in my bed back in Tallahassee. We became separated by a 1979 Winnebago with 3 wheels and a tow-truck driver afraid of wheelchairs or Mexicans. Turns out we all needed a little back-up.
If you are confused by this narrative, join the club. Better yet, try living it.