Traditions

 Warning:  Sappy Content!

I can't remember the actual year this tradition started, or the year the second ride happened so it could be considered a "tradition"  but it was a long time ago.

Every Thanksgiving, I go for a ride. 

No matter what.

There have been some beautiful days shared with friends and solo rides in snow.

This was the second with rain.  Not too bad for twentyish years.

The first rainy Thanksgiving, I rode over to the Rez to meet Officer Jeffery.  It was a steady, solid rain, with temps in the upper 30s.  

Then the wind started.

When we finished a pretty standard loop, and a ride home was offered, pride was happily swallowed and I jumped in the truck.

Today's rain was wet, but the temperature was mild, so it wasn't too hard to motivate.

It did briefly stopped while I was eating breakfast, but had resumed by the time I was kitted up.

The tradition is important because what the bike means to me.

It saved my life,

diverting me from becoming an over weight, alcoholic smoker.

It is freedom.

It has carried me through my darkest days.

It supports my family.

The tradition is gratitude.

and of course, as soon as I get home, the rain secedes

Who am I shitting; riding bikes is just fun!