Gusty wind


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.



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