Sometimes I forgot how violent and mean the evening wind can be. It pierces through my lightweight full finger gloves and my fingers would go Raynaud. No feelings. Stiff as a frozen water drop. I could cut them off without having to feel a thing. And when the sensation starts to come back, it feels like a million ants crawling under my skin. It can be painful at time but the love for riding overcomes it. Sometimes I have this crazy thought that fingers might snap off my hands.
The water is back. The creek is flowing again after so many years of dryness. The fishes are back – big and small.
What happens if roads never end and the sun never set? What happens if I never get tired and the tires stay inflated?
It’s time to turn around and go home Duc. I told myself.