A thunderstorm blew through last night, dropping temperatures down to a human level. So this morning I drug Old Blackie outa the barn and went for a blast. No stopping for photos today, I just wanted to fly.
Riding on a lonesome two lane highway
Early morning , the air still smells of rain
Trying to find the last wide open spaces
This old man and his flying carpet made of steel
All along his southwest odyssey
The motor keeps a steady beat
As he rolls along past houses farms and fields
Passing towns that time forgot
and the graveyards of the early pioneers
my apologies to Arlo Guthrie for butchering his song.
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