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My inner cries were answered, of course, by dreams of you. All of them were strange, but they all had lots of people, doing regular but happy things, and you. Just being around you. In the snow, or the ocean, the night, or the day. This is the torch that makes a little circle of light around me in the darkest of nights.

At one point in the dream, I ran into something I was sure I'd seen before. I had awakened after some strange occurrence in high-mountain Australian ruins, in the small room of a man wearing monk's robes in an urban town. There was a candle in front of a mirror on the table, a bed in the center. He told me there was only one way out of this. Well, I laughed inwardly, because somehow, I'd seen it before but didn't know where. I went outside to a fake exterior and attempted to back my bike out, hitting an invisible wall. So, I headed back inside and noted something I hadn't seen before. A little day calendar, with green plastic back, its date obscured but on the rip-off paper on the front, said, in green letters, "START START START START START START START START START START".

I sat in front of the candle and assumed the position of prayer, knowing that this would trigger it. The candle's light was eclipsed by a point white light in the center of its flame, which became brighter and brighter. For some reason, I knew that this would put me to sleep, so I closed my eyes and faked it early. They went through my stuff, put it back, and dragged me onto some manner of bus. At which point the dream lost any sort of focus, and just became my mind touching on things.

I know I'd never seen this dream before...I think.

But when I woke up for the third time that sunrise, I could hear the same song playing I'd listened to last night. Enough silliness, I'm going to go lay rubber. I'm gonna sit under the windscreen and look at the world, and see if there's anything that can make me less stupid. Because that's how I feel when I beat my head against all these walls I can't see, for long enough.

I know what I'm going to call this. One long, joyous letter, with all of its ups and downs, and twists.

Windsong.

You called me after midnight,
must have been three years since we last spoke.
I slowly tried to bring back,
the image of your face from the memories so old.
I tried so hard to follow,
but didn't catch the half of what had gone wrong,
Said, "I don't know what I can save you from."

I asked you to come over, and within half an hour,
you were at my door.
I had never really known you,
but I realized that the one you were before,
had changed into somebody for whom
I wouldn't mind to put the kettle on.
Still, I don't know what I can save you from.

Still, I don't know what I can save you from.
-Kings of Convenience

All these cities are so far away from each other, but we talk about them like they were next door. What's the tenuous connection that inextricably bonds them? Maybe I'll find out. Hopefully it's not just a bunch of semis with food.

--

I clipped a lazy vulture with the upper right side of my front fairing, and mirror. He'd been eating carrion in the center of the road, and moseyed on out just in time to get in my way. I hope he's all right, but those habits of his are the life he lives.

I rode into the G_____ National Forest again, only this time in a great set of tight twisties. It's beautiful, and I was almost frozen inside when I crested a hill and saw a deep, green valley anchored in my mind by a greyish-red crag sticking out in its center. I stood there, and looked into that valley, and thought my heated, intense thoughts.

So, not too much later I ran out of road in a hairpin, calmly straightened the bike out, braked, and laid it down in the gravel. I highsided, rolled a few feet, as the bike rolled over as well. I stood up, looked at the bike, and said, "Damn it. I'm sorry." I'd broken off both mirrors (Damn those OEM stalks!), bent my right frame slider, and scraped and cracked a little bit on the right. I'd cracked a modest piece off the left side of my front fairing which I duct taped.

I won't lie to you. Tears for my bike fill my eyes every time I lay down my bike, and every time I apologize to it. As I rolled down the twisties, going 5-7mph slower now, I thought, "When am I gonna lowside?", because the bike has never failed me and slid out first. I have always failed it.

I won't quit, though. Maybe if I make it to Deals Gap, I'll tell 'em my story and they'll laugh, pat me on the head and pour me a glass of milk. And hopefully one of 'em'll drag me through the twisties by the scruff of my neck.

I got out of the forest, down from the valley's rim, back out to grassland framed by a line of purple wildflowers along the highway, and then, desert. It's the only thing that's always been the same in my life, and damn it, I need it to change. So I'm gonna ride out of this place, and keep on riding.

I haven't heard from you in a while, and I hope you're doing okay. Humor is good, stories are great, but happiness, well... And hearing that you're okay makes me happy.

Love, joy, and admiration,
and a lot more.
-T.