Reeling. A couple of hours sleep. Stinking of smoke. Shattered, strungout and a little stoned. I pulled out of the 5 mile driveway and began the shortest leg of the longest drive.
I was going back East. The first days drive was the hardest. I nodded off behind the wheel a couple of times. I made it to a long white empty beach, saw a small shore-break. I thanked Hermes that I’d made it without flipping the Magna and called it a day.
Waves don’t get much prettier than when they break over white sand.
It sucked to leave my home of six months. All the mates I’d made and good times had were left in the red dirt my bald wheels kicked up behind me.
It was a melancholy time.