It seems like all I write about anymore are my trips to and from work. But that is not the rut of which I speak.
Yesterday, ON MY WAY TO WORK, I navigated through the vast ice canyons and meandering rivulets that are the streets of Spokane. At one point, I found my tires in a thin ice floored ravine. My pedals were barely clearing the ice bluffs. It was like riding a low rider, I guess. So, that's the rut of which I scribe. Oh yeah, and I am in the other rut too.
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