To begin, I could never have imagined that I would be writing these words. I honestly don't know how to begin. You never think there will come a time when one of your siblings, especially one younger than you will pass away. No matter how much distance or time separates you, you always think that they'll always be there. To connect with them all you have to do is pick up the phone or more likely, in this day of technological wonder, facebook or text them. No matter how far away or how much time passes, you never think that your family will ever leave you. You especially don't think there will ever come a time when your little brother won't be there anymore.
David and I didn't get to be together too much over the years. Although I've known about him since I was ten years old, I only got to meet him eleven years ago. But we hit it off as if we'd known each other our whole lives. In a sense we did. From the age of ten I knew I had a baby brother named David, but I knew little about him until I flew down to Knoxville to see my family. We spent a few days getting to know each other, and I knew then that I would be grateful for the rest of my life that I had my little brother back.
I am proud of my little brother. I'm proud of the life he was making for himself and for the way he was good at something he loved to do. Because he loved it, he had the best job in the world. He was a gentle man and funny. He called me a few times when he was on the road and we e-mailed a few more times; and his humor was always there, especially in his e-mails. I never got the funny voice mail messages on my phone that he would always leave for Tamara, but he always knew when my birthday was and I always remembered when his was.
We'll miss his jokes, we'll miss his smile and his laugh, but mostly we'll miss his presence. We just need to imagine that he's only gone on a very long run. As we remember David and remember his smile, we can take comfort in the words that Mary Elizabeth Frye wrote long ago based on the prayers and beliefs of Native Americans:
"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die."
Goodbye David, we'll see you at the end of the run.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Riding for Catharsis
Okay, so in Theatre 101 we are told that Aristotle is credited with creating the idea of the carthartis - the effect of tragic drama on its audience, which is usually manifested by a purifying or figurative cleansing of the emotions, especially pity and fear. Another definition of catharsis is a release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes the spirit.
For any of you that have been following my blog, you know that my primary purpose of riding my bicycle has been to raise money for the cancer community. My first forays were to raise money for the American Cancer Society in gratitude of the research that made the diagnoses and treatement of my threes sisters' (yes, another drama reference) and my mother's cancers possible. I wanted to do something to help other fighting the disease that needed the help that my sisters and mother got.
And as of this year my fundraising efforts on my bicycle are still going towards the cancer community but now I'm focusing my efforts on children - primarily trying to help those kids fighting cancer have a summer camp experience like other kids.
However at 10:40 this morning I took to my bike for a different purpose - seeking my own catharsis. As I wrote yesterday my brother David passed away in an accident doing what he loved to do - drive his rig. As I spoke to the family on the phone yesterday they were all emotional wrecked as well they should be. His passing is going to leave a gaping hole in our lives. But as I said yesterday I was feeling emotionally numb. It didn't seem to make sense to me. Even though he wasn't a part of my daily life as he was with everyone down in Knoxville, he was still my brother. I guess my shock and numbness could be attributed to just not being able to really accept it. Last night and again this morning I watched the video on the Houston news websites and still it didn't hit me.
It hit me about 18 miles into what would be a 30 mile non-stop ride today. I knew I had to ride today and I knew I had to ride for David. I kept hoping if I rode myself into a state of exhaustion and reached that meditative state of "flow" I might release enough so that I could feel. So, I tried to find every hill or climb of any note that I knew of between here and Syosset. It wasn't until I stood up and pounded for everything I was worth while going up Lawrence Hill Road that my cathartic moment finally hit.
I found myself standing up out of the saddle and sobbing hysterically as I kept pedaling and thinking of David - of the last time I talked to him and how I regretted not keeping in better touch with him. I cried out of anger for his having been taken away far too young. I cried for my family in Knoxville and the loss they were feeling. And I cried out of anger at myself for not reaching out to him often enough. It was good to know that I'm not made of stone and that I did feel the pain of his loss. All I know is that the rest of the ride home I felt more alive because I finally felt the pain that I had been denying myself for almost 24 hours.
I know my sisters and my mom are heartbroken. My own heart goes out to his wife Rhonda who I've never even met - I hadn't seen him in ten years. I can't pretend that my pain is the same as theirs since they will have the pain of not seeing him on the regular basis that they normally do. And I cry for my nephew Austin who won't know that his uncle David won't be coming back to visit until his parents tell him tomorrow.
I talked to Tamara today and they had some thoughts about why David never hit the brakes. First of all, he was too experienced a driver to not try to take some evasive action - even if he didn't see the other rig until it was too late. It wouldn't be like him not to hit the brakes or try to steer his rig away. Perhaps he was in some sort of physical distress before the accident. Ultimately we'll never know but it would be comforting to know that he was (as the coroner seemed to indicate) that he was dead on impact, possibly as the result of a heart issue or other medical complication.
Again, we'll never know. All we'll know is that we'll miss him and that while our lives are better becuase we knew David, they will never be the same.
For any of you out there who read this - pass this blog on to your friends and remind them (as I do now) take some time today to reach out to someone you haven't been in contact for a while and thank them for having help make you who you are today. And if they are anywhere near you, invite them to join you on your bike in search of a cathartic moment.
I'll see you on the road.
For any of you that have been following my blog, you know that my primary purpose of riding my bicycle has been to raise money for the cancer community. My first forays were to raise money for the American Cancer Society in gratitude of the research that made the diagnoses and treatement of my threes sisters' (yes, another drama reference) and my mother's cancers possible. I wanted to do something to help other fighting the disease that needed the help that my sisters and mother got.
And as of this year my fundraising efforts on my bicycle are still going towards the cancer community but now I'm focusing my efforts on children - primarily trying to help those kids fighting cancer have a summer camp experience like other kids.
However at 10:40 this morning I took to my bike for a different purpose - seeking my own catharsis. As I wrote yesterday my brother David passed away in an accident doing what he loved to do - drive his rig. As I spoke to the family on the phone yesterday they were all emotional wrecked as well they should be. His passing is going to leave a gaping hole in our lives. But as I said yesterday I was feeling emotionally numb. It didn't seem to make sense to me. Even though he wasn't a part of my daily life as he was with everyone down in Knoxville, he was still my brother. I guess my shock and numbness could be attributed to just not being able to really accept it. Last night and again this morning I watched the video on the Houston news websites and still it didn't hit me.
It hit me about 18 miles into what would be a 30 mile non-stop ride today. I knew I had to ride today and I knew I had to ride for David. I kept hoping if I rode myself into a state of exhaustion and reached that meditative state of "flow" I might release enough so that I could feel. So, I tried to find every hill or climb of any note that I knew of between here and Syosset. It wasn't until I stood up and pounded for everything I was worth while going up Lawrence Hill Road that my cathartic moment finally hit.
I found myself standing up out of the saddle and sobbing hysterically as I kept pedaling and thinking of David - of the last time I talked to him and how I regretted not keeping in better touch with him. I cried out of anger for his having been taken away far too young. I cried for my family in Knoxville and the loss they were feeling. And I cried out of anger at myself for not reaching out to him often enough. It was good to know that I'm not made of stone and that I did feel the pain of his loss. All I know is that the rest of the ride home I felt more alive because I finally felt the pain that I had been denying myself for almost 24 hours.
I know my sisters and my mom are heartbroken. My own heart goes out to his wife Rhonda who I've never even met - I hadn't seen him in ten years. I can't pretend that my pain is the same as theirs since they will have the pain of not seeing him on the regular basis that they normally do. And I cry for my nephew Austin who won't know that his uncle David won't be coming back to visit until his parents tell him tomorrow.
I talked to Tamara today and they had some thoughts about why David never hit the brakes. First of all, he was too experienced a driver to not try to take some evasive action - even if he didn't see the other rig until it was too late. It wouldn't be like him not to hit the brakes or try to steer his rig away. Perhaps he was in some sort of physical distress before the accident. Ultimately we'll never know but it would be comforting to know that he was (as the coroner seemed to indicate) that he was dead on impact, possibly as the result of a heart issue or other medical complication.
Again, we'll never know. All we'll know is that we'll miss him and that while our lives are better becuase we knew David, they will never be the same.
For any of you out there who read this - pass this blog on to your friends and remind them (as I do now) take some time today to reach out to someone you haven't been in contact for a while and thank them for having help make you who you are today. And if they are anywhere near you, invite them to join you on your bike in search of a cathartic moment.
I'll see you on the road.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
In Memory of David
I realize that with all the myriad of blogs on the internet the chances that someone actually reads mine are slim. I guess its the equivilent of casting out my message(s) in a bottle adrift on the cyber sea and hoping that someone picks it (them) up and reads it (them).
Nevertheless, I am attempting (in my new state of resolution) to actually keep some sort of schedule. As I mentioned in my last post, the musical (High School Musical, that is) pretty much had taken hold of my existence (and that of my family) for the last two weeks and yesterday I finally got back on my bike (much to the consternation of my groove). So today I find myself writing again, two days in a row at that, although I wish this posting were of a more light-hearted nature.
Let me preface this next part by saying I had a terrible headache last night so I went to bed early. However, I woke up at 12:45 a.m. unexplainedly and it took me a while to get back to sleep. I couldn't figure out why. I then proceeded to wake up every 30 minutes or so until I finally just got out of bed at 5:00. Today my school was evacuated (actually tomorrow as well) due to some asbestos that had somehow gotten into the air in one of the sections of school. I thought, "great, I'll go home and have a great time relaxing before the kids come home," as i was totally exhausted from my sleepless night. However, as I walked in the door Amy told me we needed to talk. My first thought was for my parents, thinking something had happened to one of them which is a growing fear of mine particularly in light of my father's Parkinson's. It doesn't matter that is in very early stages and that he's actually showing some signs of improvement, I worry about him most of the time. Then my second thought was trying to figure out what had I possibly done that I was about to get in serious trouble for. There was no way I was prepared for what came next.
You see, about 12 years ago Amy gave me for my birthday present the name and address of my biological mother, Luwona Davis, telling me at the time that it was up to me to do with the information as I pleased. I ended up contacting her and began corresponding with my half-sisters Tamara and Winnie. We made plans to go down and visit Lou, Tamara and my half-brother David down in Knoxville, TN over my spring break. To make a long (but extremely happy) story short we made a great connection and kept in touch via the cyber sea. Indeed, my first cycling fundraising attempts (as that's what this blog is all about in the first place) were dedicated to Tamara, Winnie and my sister Angela in gratitude for their surviving their personal fights with cancer. On top of that, for the very first Victory Ride Tamara and Winnie surprised me by coming up to be here with me. It was one of the most special days of my life.
Although I really didn't have as much contact with David as I did with my sisters, Tamara always kept us apprised of what was going on with him and I did get the chance to talk with him on the phone a few times - most often when he was on the road. He kept saying he would visit us if one of his runs as a long-haul trucker brought him up this way but he never got the chance.
You see, at about 12:45 a.m. this morning on a fog shrouded stretch of highway leading out of Houston, my brother David died in an accident doing what he loved to do - driving his rig. When I got home this afternoon (early) this was the news with which Amy greeted me. I then called Tamara and we spoke for a while and I talked to Lou. They were both emotional wrecks and personally I'm still in a state of numbness. Even though we hadn't been in touch in a while, there was always that thought in the back of my head that we would be able to see each other some day. I know from things that Tamara has written that David was very proud of his big brother and I have to say I was pretty proud (and in a way a little envious that his job allowed him to travel around and see the country) of David because he had found a job that he was good at and that he enjoyed doing. When you think of it, that's really the best job in the world - the one that you love and from what I know, David loved driving.
I don't know what the next few days will bring as I emotionally thaw out and become more aware of what I'm feeling. I know tomorrow the weather forcast is for rain in the morning but I'm fairly certain I will be out in the midst of it riding and thinking of David feeling guilty that I didn't stay in better touch with him. If nothing else, I want to feel the rain battering me as I think of my baby brother.
So if any of you are out there and happen to pick up this message in a bottle on the cyber sea of information please, please, please do this - think of one person that is important in your life that you have not been in contact with in a while and contact them. Write, e-mail, text, twitter or call - but contact them and let them know they are important in your life. Tell them you love them. Tell them you think about them. Make a date to see them. But don't wait until its too late.
It's too late to tell you to your face, but I know you hear me - I miss you David.
Nevertheless, I am attempting (in my new state of resolution) to actually keep some sort of schedule. As I mentioned in my last post, the musical (High School Musical, that is) pretty much had taken hold of my existence (and that of my family) for the last two weeks and yesterday I finally got back on my bike (much to the consternation of my groove). So today I find myself writing again, two days in a row at that, although I wish this posting were of a more light-hearted nature.
Let me preface this next part by saying I had a terrible headache last night so I went to bed early. However, I woke up at 12:45 a.m. unexplainedly and it took me a while to get back to sleep. I couldn't figure out why. I then proceeded to wake up every 30 minutes or so until I finally just got out of bed at 5:00. Today my school was evacuated (actually tomorrow as well) due to some asbestos that had somehow gotten into the air in one of the sections of school. I thought, "great, I'll go home and have a great time relaxing before the kids come home," as i was totally exhausted from my sleepless night. However, as I walked in the door Amy told me we needed to talk. My first thought was for my parents, thinking something had happened to one of them which is a growing fear of mine particularly in light of my father's Parkinson's. It doesn't matter that is in very early stages and that he's actually showing some signs of improvement, I worry about him most of the time. Then my second thought was trying to figure out what had I possibly done that I was about to get in serious trouble for. There was no way I was prepared for what came next.
You see, about 12 years ago Amy gave me for my birthday present the name and address of my biological mother, Luwona Davis, telling me at the time that it was up to me to do with the information as I pleased. I ended up contacting her and began corresponding with my half-sisters Tamara and Winnie. We made plans to go down and visit Lou, Tamara and my half-brother David down in Knoxville, TN over my spring break. To make a long (but extremely happy) story short we made a great connection and kept in touch via the cyber sea. Indeed, my first cycling fundraising attempts (as that's what this blog is all about in the first place) were dedicated to Tamara, Winnie and my sister Angela in gratitude for their surviving their personal fights with cancer. On top of that, for the very first Victory Ride Tamara and Winnie surprised me by coming up to be here with me. It was one of the most special days of my life.
Although I really didn't have as much contact with David as I did with my sisters, Tamara always kept us apprised of what was going on with him and I did get the chance to talk with him on the phone a few times - most often when he was on the road. He kept saying he would visit us if one of his runs as a long-haul trucker brought him up this way but he never got the chance.
You see, at about 12:45 a.m. this morning on a fog shrouded stretch of highway leading out of Houston, my brother David died in an accident doing what he loved to do - driving his rig. When I got home this afternoon (early) this was the news with which Amy greeted me. I then called Tamara and we spoke for a while and I talked to Lou. They were both emotional wrecks and personally I'm still in a state of numbness. Even though we hadn't been in touch in a while, there was always that thought in the back of my head that we would be able to see each other some day. I know from things that Tamara has written that David was very proud of his big brother and I have to say I was pretty proud (and in a way a little envious that his job allowed him to travel around and see the country) of David because he had found a job that he was good at and that he enjoyed doing. When you think of it, that's really the best job in the world - the one that you love and from what I know, David loved driving.
I don't know what the next few days will bring as I emotionally thaw out and become more aware of what I'm feeling. I know tomorrow the weather forcast is for rain in the morning but I'm fairly certain I will be out in the midst of it riding and thinking of David feeling guilty that I didn't stay in better touch with him. If nothing else, I want to feel the rain battering me as I think of my baby brother.
So if any of you are out there and happen to pick up this message in a bottle on the cyber sea of information please, please, please do this - think of one person that is important in your life that you have not been in contact with in a while and contact them. Write, e-mail, text, twitter or call - but contact them and let them know they are important in your life. Tell them you love them. Tell them you think about them. Make a date to see them. But don't wait until its too late.
It's too late to tell you to your face, but I know you hear me - I miss you David.
And for you, my friends, I'll see you on the road.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I've Lost My Groove!
Okay, so I realized today that I've been watching a bit too much Nickelodeon with the kids. As I was riding against what were (according to our good friends at weather.com) gusts up to 20mph from the west I had the realization that due to many considerations I've Lost My Groove. What's this got to do with Nickelodeon? Well, the first thing that popped into my mind after realizing I was off my groove was the episode where King Julian ticks off the baboon sisters and they steal his groove and put it in a jar. See it here at http://www.nick.com/videos/clip/out-of-the-groove-clip.html
As this image was playing in my head (yes, I'm still trying to have my Thornton Wilderesque moments but its hard when your groove is in a jar) I realized that as of right now I have only commuted about 300 miles since the first of the year. Usually by this time I've logged closer to 800 commute miles and another 200 for fun miles. Its been a rough year between the snowmageddons and Amy's surgery. Add to that the stress of the show this year (it wasn't stressful by itself, just added to the administration degree, trying to take care of the house, and all the other usual stresses) I didn't get on the bike as much as I would have liked. I love doing the show and this year was an incredible success for the kids. They did an outstanding job (and yes, this year's high school musical was High School Musical) and they had a great set of audiences, selling out two of the four performances.
However, (back to the business of the bike) since I'm trying to get into shape for the April 18 Victory Ride I need to log a lot more mileage. Today was the beginning of that. Of course, I won't be able to ride tomorrow unless I ride in the dark at 7:00 - actually it might be worth it. It could be fun and something I haven't done in a while so I might give it a shot.
So, the bottome line is I watch too much television and don't ride enough - so the only way I'm getting my groove out of the jar is to get off my baboon backside and open the jar! If anyone wants to join me, just drop me an e-mail and I'll meet you for a spirited ride -- even better, come join me on April 18 and see if I did get my groove back.
See ya on the road.
As this image was playing in my head (yes, I'm still trying to have my Thornton Wilderesque moments but its hard when your groove is in a jar) I realized that as of right now I have only commuted about 300 miles since the first of the year. Usually by this time I've logged closer to 800 commute miles and another 200 for fun miles. Its been a rough year between the snowmageddons and Amy's surgery. Add to that the stress of the show this year (it wasn't stressful by itself, just added to the administration degree, trying to take care of the house, and all the other usual stresses) I didn't get on the bike as much as I would have liked. I love doing the show and this year was an incredible success for the kids. They did an outstanding job (and yes, this year's high school musical was High School Musical) and they had a great set of audiences, selling out two of the four performances.
However, (back to the business of the bike) since I'm trying to get into shape for the April 18 Victory Ride I need to log a lot more mileage. Today was the beginning of that. Of course, I won't be able to ride tomorrow unless I ride in the dark at 7:00 - actually it might be worth it. It could be fun and something I haven't done in a while so I might give it a shot.
So, the bottome line is I watch too much television and don't ride enough - so the only way I'm getting my groove out of the jar is to get off my baboon backside and open the jar! If anyone wants to join me, just drop me an e-mail and I'll meet you for a spirited ride -- even better, come join me on April 18 and see if I did get my groove back.
See ya on the road.
Monday, March 8, 2010
With Respects to Thornton Wilder
In the play Our Town the character Emily says, "Oh, earth you're too beautiful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings realize life while they live it -- every, every minute?" I pondered these words as I commuted on my bike to work today and the meaning (or I should say in my oxygen deprived state, multiple meanings) started to turn over in my head to the rythm of my crankset.
First of all, you have to know that at the tender age of ten my daughter Sarah is a die-hard environmentalist. She has held "Save the Earth" parties for her birthday and she is raising money to replant the trees that have been chopped down on Main Street in the town where we live (see her website projectlemonaid.org for more on that). She is working on a project in her class to "adopt" a polar bear and track it. The joke around our house is whenever we see someone has left the lights on we say, " is killing the polar bears!" to indicate the waste of energy and the contribution to global warming.
That being said, this being the first truly warm commute morning of the season I was basking in the warmth that was coming down from above. Plants are starting to bud and even though there is ice on the ground (and in the pond I pass on the Stillwell climb) there is the sense of the earth waking up again after our bouts with "Snowmageddon". I found myself wondering, do people actually get to experience this when they're in their cars? Of course I know the obvious answer but as I kept pedaling along I found myself noticing the little things that so often go unnoticed.
I saw the squirrels running in the distance (of course I kept a wary eye out for them since I've heard too many drive-by squirreling stories) and the sound the leaves made as they rustled. I saw the dappling of the sun through the leaves. I saw the faint "thumbnail" of the moon that still glowed as I cranked up the slopes of Stillwell and I tried my hardest to take it all in. As much as I was focusing on my cadence (spinning up the slope, nice and smooth, high rpm, yada yada) I also tried to really SEE my ride for a change.
This got me to thinking. I (like many of you reading this) have logged many, many miles on my faithful steed. I see all sorts of things but I sort of let them wash over me in my zeal to pedal faster or more efficiently. I think as cyclists we sometimes get a little "blindered" to what's going on around us and we forget that the way we travel puts us more in tune with the earth than our metal clad brethren (or sistren) and we should take a moment or two on every ride we do - no matter the conditions or the purpose - to try to fully and consciously acknowledge that. Even if its just to acknowledge a rider going the other direction with a simple raise of the hand.
I will be riding this year to help the children at Sunrise Day Camp have the opportunity to attend camp for the summer. I know there will be times that some of them will be very weak from their treatments and won't be able to physically do a lot of the things they love to do - like ride their bikes. So for now, when I ride I will think about them and ride for those who can't now ride or ride in the future. And every time I ride I'm going to try to find the time to truly and really enjoy that moment of the ride without thinking about tactics, cadence, rpm, heart rate or any of the other competitive parts of riding. Just ride, just feel, just realize in honor of those kids who can't.
Through Connorsarmy.org we've already started registering riders for the Third Annual Victory Ride to help these kids, so if you haven't already, register to join us - even if you do it in the comfort of your environs. Whatever you do, when you ride for those kids try to enjoy it - "every, every minute".
Stay well and well see you on the road.
First of all, you have to know that at the tender age of ten my daughter Sarah is a die-hard environmentalist. She has held "Save the Earth" parties for her birthday and she is raising money to replant the trees that have been chopped down on Main Street in the town where we live (see her website projectlemonaid.org for more on that). She is working on a project in her class to "adopt" a polar bear and track it. The joke around our house is whenever we see someone has left the lights on we say, " is killing the polar bears!" to indicate the waste of energy and the contribution to global warming.
That being said, this being the first truly warm commute morning of the season I was basking in the warmth that was coming down from above. Plants are starting to bud and even though there is ice on the ground (and in the pond I pass on the Stillwell climb) there is the sense of the earth waking up again after our bouts with "Snowmageddon". I found myself wondering, do people actually get to experience this when they're in their cars? Of course I know the obvious answer but as I kept pedaling along I found myself noticing the little things that so often go unnoticed.
I saw the squirrels running in the distance (of course I kept a wary eye out for them since I've heard too many drive-by squirreling stories) and the sound the leaves made as they rustled. I saw the dappling of the sun through the leaves. I saw the faint "thumbnail" of the moon that still glowed as I cranked up the slopes of Stillwell and I tried my hardest to take it all in. As much as I was focusing on my cadence (spinning up the slope, nice and smooth, high rpm, yada yada) I also tried to really SEE my ride for a change.
This got me to thinking. I (like many of you reading this) have logged many, many miles on my faithful steed. I see all sorts of things but I sort of let them wash over me in my zeal to pedal faster or more efficiently. I think as cyclists we sometimes get a little "blindered" to what's going on around us and we forget that the way we travel puts us more in tune with the earth than our metal clad brethren (or sistren) and we should take a moment or two on every ride we do - no matter the conditions or the purpose - to try to fully and consciously acknowledge that. Even if its just to acknowledge a rider going the other direction with a simple raise of the hand.
I will be riding this year to help the children at Sunrise Day Camp have the opportunity to attend camp for the summer. I know there will be times that some of them will be very weak from their treatments and won't be able to physically do a lot of the things they love to do - like ride their bikes. So for now, when I ride I will think about them and ride for those who can't now ride or ride in the future. And every time I ride I'm going to try to find the time to truly and really enjoy that moment of the ride without thinking about tactics, cadence, rpm, heart rate or any of the other competitive parts of riding. Just ride, just feel, just realize in honor of those kids who can't.
Through Connorsarmy.org we've already started registering riders for the Third Annual Victory Ride to help these kids, so if you haven't already, register to join us - even if you do it in the comfort of your environs. Whatever you do, when you ride for those kids try to enjoy it - "every, every minute".
Stay well and well see you on the road.
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