Eric and I are resting at a Fast Stop in Towanda, Illinois. We have
been biking through a storm since leaving Lexinton. Except for a
trucker who didn't want to swing left and slow down, the ride has been
most refreshing.
The first of three one-sentence ghost bike poems appearing this week at One Sentence Poems. After Long Gone
1 comment:
Nice blog pics and tidbits of information.
PS: Call your Dad on Betty's cell, or call Steve abut their trip to Little Rock and the funeral.
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