I’m guessing that Ron’s full name is probably Ronald, but it is hard for me imagine him with more than a one syllable name.
Suddenly, I’m in Fairbanks, Alaska. I’m in an unfamiliar room surrounded by unfamiliar people. I’m eating some tasty chowder, talking about Acts chapter 2 and hoping that my wet socks are not stinking up the room. Wait…..How did I get here?
I like to think of my brain as a computer. Not because it is an efficient, well engineered machine; but because it takes a long time to boot up in the morning and is prone to “insufficient storage” errors. The following experiences along the Alaska Highway have thoroughly taxed all of my system resources.
The vacation is over. No more hotels, no more nice meals, no more support vehicle. Most importantly: No more parental supervision. Finally I can stay up past 9 pm and eat cookies for breakfast!
….and it made me a bit woozy. I don’t adjust to the thin air of high elevation very easily. The breathtaking sights of the Canadian Rockies didn’t help!
You can tell a lot about a man by looking at his boots. Looking at my boots will tell you that I am either severely lacking in funds, or severely lacking in judgement. A day of riding in perpetual rain across the Canadian plains has left me questioning my footwear selection.
I gotta be honest. I abhor the term “Midwest”. It seems to have become a blanket term that can be applied to any place between New York and LA. I prefer to refer to the area that I am from as The Plains, The Prairie or even The Heartland. Over the last few days I’ve come to realize that the Heartland’s northern bounds stretch all the way into Saskatchewan.