My coffee tastes like soap this morning, but I am not going to let it get to me. It is not real coffee anyway, but coffee’s forever understudy, decaffeinated coffee. It probably should taste like soap.
It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep me down. I can’t be bothered to be bothered about it. Bottoms up and glug, glug, glug. It is a dreary 50 degrees and drizzling this morning, good weather to not go for a bike ride, but that’s not what I am going to do. I feel like riding, and you can’t keep me down, so consider me already gone. Picture the contrails drifting away from this post as I clip in and pedal away. By the time you read this I am already flipping the switch on my RP-22 and getting into some dirt.
I am not going to be kept down.
I am running thin on trail soldiers lately. How is it that everybody falls out during the ascendancy of Juancho? Injuries and duty to the homestead all across the roster. I can’t complain. I have forgotten the number of rides I have bailed on, been dropped from, avoided. I have sown and rept.
Doesn’t matter, not keeping me down.