I forgot how much the open road opened my mind. So, no more pedalling around. Wait…actually, what I really mean is more pedalling around because the Bike Writer is wheelie getting ready to ride again after three long years. It’s time for a brand new bike, a whole new chapter, and a lot of new directions.
Play before reading but on low to not distract you. 🙂
A chronic smoker, that white-haired man who never stopped talking, and the backwash guy. Three reg barflies and a keep. Lies told, secrets shared, and all I heard was “Ah, one more for the road”. Swiftly, I would grab a frosty beer glass from a humming cooler, then reach for the silver tap. Froth to pour, the perfect head, and ding went the register. Sale…total….enter…$2.25.
I remember those Saturday nights we’d walk home together. In the lull of a quiet harbour. Watch a boat go out or watch the one cab we had drive down the south side. Laughing, carrying on with each other, and three sheets to the wind. Sometimes we would talk the ears off each other, other times you were too contrary. But, I would always make you laugh until you were over it.
Our strolls home from a party, a wedding dance, or the club were where our friendship grew the most. How comforting it was to have you as my best friend. You’ll always be my best friend, but I miss you and being alone under a streetlight at night still makes me mad…