While our elected representatives pull most of us further towards central planning and crony capitalism (fascism) promising a government shepherded life with less risk where they steer and we row, Rosie and I seek the open road on our trusty steel steeds. I was up at 0446 while the Little Woman caught a few more moments of sack time knowing a comfortable mattress will be less often enjoyed in the next 60 days. I prepared the coffee. The scent nudged Rosie from her fetal position. Looking forward to one more morning on the front porch, Rosie said it was a bit too chilly. This could be a foreboding moment. I'm typing this as Rosie is preparing my last breakfast, not necessarily comparable with the Last Supper. I don't expect to be crucified any time soon, although my fate is in the hands of the Open Road God.
We've batten down the hatches and await our friends Hanie and Rick who will be providing us with sag service our first day. They've taken time out of their busy day to share with us, carrying our gear to our destination and setting up camp. Along the way our friend Graig plans to meet us on his bike and escort us to the outskirts of Syracuse. Jeff and Karen visited us last night to send us off with a few laughs and good lucks. Jeff considered riding with us the first day, but like everybody else he has to work. Oh yeah, that's why we can do this ride. All of Rosie's girlfriends have voiced their concern for her health and safety and have charged me with ensuring both even though this was not my idea. My friends for the most part have remained silent and suspiciously envious I'm sure.
Well, I should make haste because Rosie is doing the dishes and just asked me if I've finished eating. There are many ways to crack a whip.