Devil Wind

3am. Everything's here but the woman, rain, and whiskey. I keep entertaining ideas of selling the truck, loading up the bicycle, and hitting the road. It makes more sense the more I think about it, of course. I can't seem to talk any sense into myself.
When I get my earnest money back from the real estate deal gone to Hell, I may invest in saddle bags, or panniers, for the bike. I'm tellin' you, I think it's really gonna happen. It's a quest. That's it! It's a fucking quest!
EVERYBODY appreciates a quest! That's it, bitches! Rationalization. That's all it takes.