It is over 100 degrees in the shade, but I have a few moments, and so I grab my gear and slip out with the bike. Even with the heat, 55 feels good, and I cruise on out into my favorite stretch of forest under the guise of getting to know my little bike better.

This bit of road reminds me of the forests of my childhood, fond memories of spring and summer days spent in my first car, freedom to roam, the people I cared about along for the ride. Good times filled with hopeful futures, dreams, and happy adventures.

The wind presses against my chest and I lean into the curves, pushing the throttle a bit to revel in the slingshot effect as I straighten out. I find myself daydreaming about the travels I’ll be able to take one day, and smiling about the roads to look forward to. Hope is a beautiful thing, and I realize I’ve lived too long without it.

The miles fall away, and the worries of the day with them. Soaring over the pavement, I find peace and joy.

I’m suddenly at my turn-around spot, and with a happy heart I turn my wheels toward Home. Because that’s the best part of every adventure.