I didn't really want to write. But, I thought it would make sense to get my streak status up a notch. @brandonwilson is serious.
In a sense, I could consider this a starting line. I'm scheduling. It doesn't matter if it's 10:35 pm and I've been at the computer most of the day.
I did get a run in ( if you can't running around the blog ) - I was coding all day and it's starting to get fun. I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I love that metaphor because I have a fun memory of it. ( here comes the story )
When I was only twelve, I had a dirt motorcycle. I didn't have a great place to ride it living in the suburbs, but there was an empty field I'd brave it in once in a while. The problem is, it was loud. So people probably didn't care for me racing around the streets waking up their sleeping babies.
One day, we trailered up the bikes and my dad, a friend, and myself went to a place called Kettleman City. It's on the intersection of Hwy 41 and Interstate 5 in California.
I think it's a toxic waste dump now, but back then, you could go ride dirt bikes. There's basically nothing around for miles except a bunch of food and gas at that intersection I mentioned.
At lunch time, we road our motorcycles through the storm drain on the riding side of I-5 to the McDonalds side.
The funny thing is, my buddy had told me how it worked. You go through -- it's too loud to hear anything -- the motorcycles are literally in a tube. Echoing like crazy.
You have to be patient because you don't want to run over each other.
"At the end, there's a drop." he had told me, but I forgot. It was about an eight-foot ramp connecting the tube down to the sand below.
On it was a big cement block ( that I was not aware of ).
My buddy went first. I went second. My dad brought up the rear. It was loud. It was exciting. Your whole body was vibrating with the sound of three motorcycles in a tube. You could make out if somebody was yelling - but all you could do is brake a little.
We didn't have lights on our motorcycles -- they were dirt bikes.
When I saw the light -- ( literally at the end of the tunnel ) -- I lost my mind. I got so excited.. I started to go faster.
I was probably going too fast.
I didn't know how it worked.
My buddy went down the ramp slowly, cautiously. He had experience.
I had only enthusiasm and quick little dirt bike.
I gunned it and hit that light pretty fast. Who knew the ground would drop out below me and I'd go sailing over the cement block, over my buddy, and 20 feet out into the soft dirt below? Seriously -- who knew?
Nobody got hurt. I avoided the block and we laughed our asses off. ( though I don't think I used that term at 12 ).
What a blast. We ate a big lunch and got back on our bikes to reverse the process. What a day. Up steep hills, riding flat out in the weeds for hours was a defining moment in my pre-pubescent life. I never got another ride in as good as that day. But, I took with me an amazing experience with the light at the end of the tunnel.