Well, Yesiree Ma’m & Boy Howdee!! Hit shore wuz good while hit lasted!! And since a gentleman never discusses his relationship(s), I’ll leave it at that.
In July my friend in Albuquerque who’d been undergoing chemo was back on her feet. I ‘queezed intuh muh flyin’ helmet, hollered, “Clear the prop!” and headed North (again) seeking cooler climes. Ten days later I found myself enjoying (superb!) coffee at The Lift (no longer extant) in Pagosa Springs, Colorado (346 km). I brag I averaged 34.6 km a day. Since then I’ve managed to cut that in half. I admit it, I enjoy chiding folks, generally males, on their paces. In those moments when I've had absolutely NOTHING to do (Let’s see....I vaguely recall one about ten years ago), I speculate on when the speed demons find time to tell someone they love them, let alone MAKE love. (It CAN be done while driving (as I'm sure you know), but Safety Clown frowns on that kind of behavior.)
After Pagosa I began a westward drift. Allow me to commend Mancos to you. A splendid town of about 1119 folks, Mancos sports three (count ‘em!) art galleries and the finest vanilla ice cream yet at Hamburger Haven! (since closed.
In Dolores to resupply, there's a magnificent library with excellent wi-fi and a pair of "magpies" in the meat department of the local grocery; one makes mewing sounds while the other cracks his gum. They reminded me of a high school I used for eighth and ninth grades (before dropping out) in the rurals of Tennessee. The only thing I could surmise is that they, like the poor kids in that high school, just didn’t get enough attention. I returned to the Forest, my socio-cultural needs sated.
P.S. There's a great thrift store in the church at the West end of town. You'll know you're in the right place if the church is sitchiated in a triangle 'tween two roads.
In Dolores to resupply, there's a magnificent library with excellent wi-fi and a pair of "magpies" in the meat department of the local grocery; one makes mewing sounds while the other cracks his gum. They reminded me of a high school I used for eighth and ninth grades (before dropping out) in the rurals of Tennessee. The only thing I could surmise is that they, like the poor kids in that high school, just didn’t get enough attention. I returned to the Forest, my socio-cultural needs sated.
P.S. There's a great thrift store in the church at the West end of town. You'll know you're in the right place if the church is sitchiated in a triangle 'tween two roads.