Relative Something

It’s always nice to get home again, even though the trip was so much fun that I wish it wouldn’t end. We enjoyed mostly favorable weather, right up until the second-to-the-last day, when a robust thunderstorm swallowed much of our riding time, and left us soaked to the bone.

Earlier in the ride, Jim enlisted the support of the local police to escort us across a high-traffic intersection, and I caught this shot as we started out…

This trip was different for me, in that I have acquired a familiarity with the routine that allows a certain amount of casual planning, yet it had been 2-years since I last participated and I was a bit rusty on some of the details.

I remembered to bring my journal, but I forgot a pencil. I never did get around to buying or borrowing one, so, I didn’t do any writing all week. Maybe I was due for a break.

The good thing about that is, I didn’t fret over it. Just went with the flow.

I am now in the struggle of reorienting my thinking from the carefree mode of vacation, to the responsibilities of taking care of the home and heeding the scheduled events I committed to before I left. What were those, anyway?

The day-job starts up again tomorrow. I better not forget that. The yard at home is in need of attention. I must unpack my camping gear and prepare it for storage.

It is good to be home again, but I already miss the freedom of that open road and the treasure of like-minded friends who make it such a wonderful week-long adventure.