3/4 – Rally Withdrawal is Bittersweet

225 miles.

At the end of the rally everyone goes home to their normal life again, many to nurse beaten bodies and bruised livers. I go back to…more riding. What is normal anymore?

The waxing desert moon glowed pale blue through the fabric of my tent, bright enough to see. It matched the static electricity sparks thrown from the silk liner rubbing against my sleeping bag.

Add a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *