Los Angeles, you surprise me. Just when I don't think I need to stay glued to the weather channel after a week of perfectly sunny riding, you decide to pour...for the next few days. What gives? I now have to take the four wheeler. What about my sense of freedom? Ah, but ok, sure, wash the roads, make them cleaner. Feed the dry and thirsty plants, they sure need it. But then, give me some good dry warm riding come next week, cause I'll sure need it.
Another short-lived stint of maintaining a 4 walled domicile is up once again. I am free to roam the countryside without obligation, accept to gain an inner and higher understanding of myself and purpose. The end of another promise to be engulfed by the clasps of responsibility, dedication, and expectation have evolved to a rather visceral pile of projectile vomit outwards onto the cosmic concrete seas. Vessels of futuristic transport to worlds unknown, and portals to the past where I had once grown. The open road. A metaphor for everything untapped potential and endless means. Hope.
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