It's hot this summer on the east coast of the U.S, and somewhere there's an incredibly happy, sweaty, bearded, burly man out there happy as can be. I gave up driving to work and picked up a bike about three months ago, and since then I've ridden my bike to do pretty much everything, from visiting friends, to buying groceries, and I've never felt more free, and connected with the world around me. The smell of summer, something I thought was lost to a young boy a long time ago, waiting there, just where I left it, waiting for me to slow down just a bit and find it right where it had been left. The sounds of Night after a long days work, clearing my mind to the sounds of snapping branches, bats screaming not far above, romantic frogs beckoning their next best mate, and the soft hum of my chain rushing through the gears, and my tires rubbing the old cracking road. The wind picking me up emerging from the tree line wisping my wild curly hair all around as it burst from the confines of my helmet, and the hot summer sun warming my my skin as I go, and the rain. Don't even get me started on the rain.
I thought this feel somewhere between hobbies and rants, so here you go.
I thought this feel somewhere between hobbies and rants, so here you go.
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