I can help. I can assist. I just can’t get directly involved in things. I’m starting over. Also, I’m not sure where to start.

These things are true. The dates, the birthday cake, the pictures, the words, the memories. All of it’s true, to date.

I did stay in Tonopah the first night, and I rode through Groveland and Yosemite. It all started out rather normal.

The book, the one we’re trying to recreate for you now, picked up in a couple of days, somewhere around Benson.

—ooOoo—

The next day though, I woke up happy with excitement, knowing I was gonna ride the Extraterrestrial Highway.

With Shouka, Carson’s killer whale, on my handlebars, I rode through the Nevada desert toward the E.T. Highway.

There’s not a lot of gas stations and services in the area, so I topped-off my tank (and a gas can on the side) to make it.

It hit me about halfway. It’s 115+ degrees outside, no cell service, and I’m 150 miles from anything that could help.

—ooOoo—

My poetry for the day:

Something about a gentle light fading away into darkness,

Focus on a brilliant moon slipping behind the night clouds,

Finish with a touching reflection about an enduring silent night.

Swish – Nothing but net!