dryfj.com / drycyclist.com

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The old road toward Coyote Springs rises up a low hill The day is spinning its finale even though I don't want that; I ride away from Coyote SpringsThumbnailsFive minutes later, the pink sunset light has dimmed a littleThe day is spinning its finale even though I don't want that; I ride away from Coyote SpringsThumbnailsFive minutes later, the pink sunset light has dimmed a littleThe day is spinning its finale even though I don't want that; I ride away from Coyote SpringsThumbnailsFive minutes later, the pink sunset light has dimmed a littleThe day is spinning its finale even though I don't want that; I ride away from Coyote SpringsThumbnailsFive minutes later, the pink sunset light has dimmed a littleThe day is spinning its finale even though I don't want that; I ride away from Coyote SpringsThumbnailsFive minutes later, the pink sunset light has dimmed a little

There's nobody else around. The silence amplifies the wrinkling of my clothes and the crunch of my feet touching down as I walk. I keep my ears open for the possible sound of water.