the open road is addicting. every curve that pulls away ahead of me promises
something new.

i can feel when i drop into the coastal plane because the air feels thick and
warm, smothering me inside of my helmet. i can feel when i'm pushing into the
mountains when a line of cold creeps in over my wrists near the foothills.

sometimes  i worry that i'll never want to go home; sometimes, when i've been
gone for long, i ache to rond the corner and see the skyline open up into that
familiar river valley i've seen for the last decade.

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