The Storm

Aarrr, says ye knows adventure says ye, arrr. Wet behind the ears ye be says I. How can ya know this hear thing called adventure when yer ship be naked as a summers day and not a fender in sight. Aye lad, ya aint lived til yer brought to a standstill in a 60mph gust. Ya aint felt rain until it stings and feels like horizontal hail bite'n yer cheeks and yer feet be dippin ankle deep on each pedal stroke. Ya aint ridden in traffic til yuv been shoved to the opposite sides of the lane by gusts blown between buildings. Ya aint lived til y've firmly held yer life in yer hands lad.





Arr, this evenin been one o them dark and stormy evenins. The wind was howling like a banshee out of the south crying death in the wind. She was blowin over 30 and gustin upper 50's if she was blowing at all. The rain was shootin across the road. It was the kind of night folks look at ya and say "wow". Not a soul about cept thems that be locked away in stinking cages o glass and steel. Aint no place for a fair weather racer boy lad. These be conditions to try the soul and mind o man. A man aint race'n another on a night like this boy. There aint no one else about. A man yells and mocks the fates on a night such as this.





Aye, ye be discoverin yerself on a night like this lad. Be glad it be just 18 miles. Time was years ago I road 245 miles like this. I remember it lad. I remember it well. Blowed full off the road I was. Sent off from Arivaca to brave the winds and rain alone I was. All the others behind me jumped ship when they had the chance. Men ahead o me came within a hairs breadth of stepping too far son. Steppin too far be the end of ya lad. Comin close though will teach ya things boy. Teach ya bout yerself.