A friend asked the Little Woman what she feared most about the upcoming trip. You would think crashing would be both our greatest fear. And during the Soputhwest Swing, I sat in a hot tub with a bunch of campers as they exchanged horror stories of black ice, snow and sleet in the summer months. When I told them about our upcoming trip, they switched gears to motorcycle crashes.
Wonderful, supportive group.
I think the idea of crashes doesn't bother me because I have crashed so much riding and racing dirt bikes. I suppose that doesn't make sense, but it doesn't seem daunting, although a dirt bike, tossing me to the ground alone in the desert is different than a street bike and a cement truck.
Her fear? Being an anchor that holds me back and frustrates her.
She likes to go a bit slower and easier than I do. I (not unlike a lot of men) set out to conquer. She's not lily white however. When we toured Colorado last year, we both agreed and attempted to do too much and it became a windshield ride. We must both be careful not to push too hard.
When she asked me the same question I responded,"Not finishing."
"Really? I never even considered it."
Wow. The Quilter continues to amaze me.
After three days of rain, I wondered what would happen in, say, Vermont in autumn, after a month of cold and drizzly weather. Would the cumulative effect of it beat us down?
I know the survival technique for that, however.
One day at a time.
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