I
have a pretty good imagination. In fact,
I have been accused of having an overly active imagination, and sometimes
spending too much time in my fantasy world, instead of our real one. To these people I say, "poo-poo on
you-you." I spend plenty of time in
our real world… please don't condemn me
for wanting to enjoy some time away once in awhile.
Besides,
more often than not, my 'fantasies' are based on something going on in the real
world that simply needs some embellishing, in order to make it 'taste' just a
little better. Don't worry though, this
story is goanna be like all my previous ones… true blue through and
through. You can trust me on that. Honest.
You all know me well enough by now don'tchya?
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- - - - - - - -
It
was just after noon when I pulled Honey up to the edge of the scenic overlook
at Emory Pass. The elevation was 8,228
feet, and while I had been moving, the air had felt nice and cool. As I got off and took off my helmet, I
noticed that without the wind chill, the air was quite warm, probably close to
90.
It
always amazes me how my body acclimates itself on my road trips. On one of my rides to Seattle, I'd noticed
how quickly I became comfortable in the cold climate. Now, as I ride in the desert… my body adjusts
and I don't notice the heat that much.
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