The M6 is gone.
It happened very fast.
That is likely a belessing in it’s own disguise. Although I would never have suspected that story would end in such a manner.
But, I walk away, nonetheless, and certainly none the worse.
But the week behind me now ended well, and heralds great promise for the next that lay ahead.
I had two awesome rides Saturday and Sunday. My body is fit and tuned, and ready.
I have hence decided that the adrenaline I feel or felt – but, not the loss, around the M6, has served to set, yet, another stage.
Perhaps God is telling me I don’t need a machine (well… That machine any way). I am one, in my own right.
I feel alive. My legs, actually pistons, as evidence. My whole body carved out of steel. My mind ever as sharp as any razor all good men (John Steinbeck is on my current reading list. Consider his The Moon Is Down) can appreciate.
Look, carefully, for me in your rear view mirror. I won’t last there long.
I will likely post about that in the next day or so.
Incidentally, and possibly historically, our expectations around my weekends post: obama and gates Write the Book on racial profiling in america meet, and could likely exceed, all expectations.
Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.
Brian Patrick Cork