6:30 AM. 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Humidity 84%.
Cold blooded Athena rumbles her complaints but knows we must be moving on. Another waystation ahead. Will there be shelter? Will there be dry warmth where the two of us can recover from the elements?
One never knows for sure when the next safe waystation may be. In this cold, harsh world, one must have faith in ones' friends and that the next stop will welcome the chilly, wet, tired rider. When a friend or waystation with open arms is found, they must be remembered, savored and held close to the heart, lest they be lost forever in a sea of mediocraty and ambivalence.
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