Here I am on the 1984 Cannondale SM-500 that Ive been riding for 14 years.
If it was good enough to sustain me through several seasons on the
mean streets of DC, then it certainly works in
Tucson.
I look back at this period of my life and see the long fingered guitar player
hands pressed together as if in prayer "God, help me get out of here
alive."
Even then, I was keeping my eye on my six, anticipating the tailwinds upon
whose currents I would sail away from the corruption and debauchery of life
in the capital city of America.