Today, riding my motorcycle to meet some dear friends, I ride through an area of which I rode my bicycle as a kid, challenging myself to beat a far off train, honking its horn. I was only a mile away from the impending juxtaposed interception. I am the sort of person that I really don’t need others to be around me to push myself. I am naturally competitive against nature and myself, as was my attribute as a kid. I peddled that bike as fast as my legs could go, with the whistling of the train growing more vociferous. I crossed the freeway intersection, then over the tracks staring the train down like a champion would look at a beaten competitor. I had essentially 200 feet of breathing room before that train would have mashed me into non-existence! Had I have had a little windup ringer bell on my bicycle, I would have taunted the locomotive, alas, I was able to feign humble acceptance of winning. I caught my breath, then pushed on the next mile and a half to the potato fields of which I would work for the day.

This is the story that immediately came to mind when I turned off the main road onto this road, blanketed by pathetic and dismal drought ridden corn fields on either side. Then I was stricken with the ever nagging question: Why the hell am I still here? I shan’t go any further in my own battles with personal demons, but it’s amazing that simple memories overshadow simple pleasures. We humans ascribe so many emotions to the simplest of experiences. We convolute our lives by associating immaterial moments and try to relive them. These are merely my observations and in no way do I care to use broad sweeping generalizations as so many people feel offended by being categorized. Life is merely one big ball of different pieces of scrap yarn, it’s nifty when looking at the overall picture, but when disassembled, it’s an absolute mess….