My use of the term "Alive" may not have been the proper adjective. More like "Breathing" to be more precise. I probably slept three hours that night and then awoke suddenly to realize that it was time to get the fuck out of Dodge. The ensuing ride into the dreadful headwinds that morning had my head ringing all day and my mind was fighting off virtual insanity as the mileposts streaked by.
I forced myself to drink a liter of water at every gas stop. I swear that I maybe pissed three times the entire trip? Proof that even though I was sitting motionless on several hundred pounds of steel and splitting the wind at 100 mph, my body was under duress and working hard for survival. Solid food was the last thing on my mind. Come gullet or gas tank, fluid was the only element that was going to get my ass home.
By the time I crested the hills in Texas Canyon, the shadows were getting long and I found myself driving head-on into the bright pulsating orb we know as the sun. The elements were working against me and the only resolve I had left inside my soul was the fact that home was getting closer and the surreal dream-like trance that I was experiencing would soon be over. As I finally pulled into my driveway, a harsh reality overcame me and I had the strangest feeling that I had just lived through a bad acid trip with Hunter S. Thompson narrating in my head the entire way. I'm a survivor.....
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
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