Purpose.

Damn...I just love my second home. I love sitting on my dock, having a beer while my buddy chases his duck, snake, frog, fox, and skunk friends through the water and grass. The serenity of fly fishing the Namekagon is my cathedral, my church. Only a few people that REALLY know me, realizes that this part of Wisconsin defines me. It is my family. It is my home.

But this place also brings out the sadistic side of me. Musky fishing in the 30-40 degree with rain and snow. Making continuous $20 contributions to questionable and immoral charities. All three cantinas of Dante's Divine Comedy on display.

But it also means so, so much more. It is my second birthplace...it is why I bike. Gary says I get to come back for Round #4. No begging this time, but a inconspicuous, well-place bribe might have done the trick.

Now starts 6 months of the torture, the transformation, the trip fantastic. The building of a monster and a chariot. And rage. Unadulterated and unapologetic rage.

But more importantly....a purpose.

Where did I put those Happy Pills?

Winter (otherwise know as the biking off-season) does not serve me well. I causes me to think too much about the things that I hate and bother me. If you are one of the four people on this planet that read my blog, you see a pattern in my posting dates and topics. So the clinical diagnosis is in...I am a unprincipled narcissistic introvert.

But all that changes on 03/06/2010, because remember......it's all about the bike.

The bike is my psychotropic happy pill, my Single-Barrel JD...my orgasm. It makes me forget about all of the horrible shit that happens in this world. I need nothing else, nor do I want anything else. I will never forget what Dr. Mark once told me: Biking gives a Zen-like feeling. I might argue a Tao-like fuzzy, but the Szy is a PhD.

So, tommorrow, I am morphing into the just an introvert...a happy introvert on a bike. See ya down the road.