Sometimes a ride to the barn just as a strong thunder-boomer is approaching cures what ails you. Rain spattering the tin roof, wind kicking up dust swatches like tumbleweeds through a ghost town, a dog and a bike, a little Toby Keith and King George on a crackly radio while you muck stalls. A mad sprint to the house soaking wet in a painful pelting downpour racing a 3 legged dog. It's good to finally be back out of the city.
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