It's seven AM on May 5th. After a long winter of routine, family life, and four doors I'm finally on the road again. The cool morning air is filled with the aroma of damp earth and manure. It enters my helmet at 70 miles an hour, I soak in its complexity. For the first time in a while, I am not needed and there is no where to be. A short list of suggestions are scribbled on an envelope tucked neatly in my breast pocket. I stop when I'm hungry. I consume the landscape on my own terms. I am sharply aware of the juxtaposition of my daily schedule against this new state I find myself in.