injury for the past several weeks.
He got kicked. It was probably his own fault.
But in the way that these things often work out, he was the one with the seriously ripped open hock.
So I've been travelling back and forth to the barn more often than usual to help with the hydro-therapy, injections of medicine, and so on.
I love the road to the barn. It reminds me of Spring Valley in West Virginia where I learned to drive. It is an old two-lane highway. It twists and turns and goes up and down hills and through one wide valley. Most of it has no shoulders at all and some of it has some pretty steep ravines right off the pavement. There is only one spot marked for passing in the 9 mile stretch I drive - the rest of the road you just can't see that far ahead.
I drive this road with a great deal of caution. No matter what time of day I go, no matter what the weather is (in this picture the heat index is over 100), there is one sight I will ALWAYS see:
you can count on it. There will always be a bicyclist.
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