Chicken Pox and me are off to the west

Boxed in by western time constraints and personal morals, the least thing i can do is try.

Tomorrow morning, I'm west bound with a back pack and a bike.
Freedom.

Remarkably this feels just like leaving for Peru almost two years ago.
Scary.

Building a wheel in a living room the night before I would ride on it.
Deja Vu.

The nerves are their too, and I've yet to get a handle on them.
Butt-Hair-Flies

3000+ miles in 30+ days and thiers some headwind to be found some where west of here too.
Mathematician.

My old stead is in a box, resting and wrapped in cardboard, waiting to be shipped out to bellingham. Refurbished.

My new stead is named Chicken Pox due to several red speckles of fresh paint used to cover up scratches.
Rust protection.

My gear is more than halved, and my departure date looms.
Listo?

Tomorrow morning after pancakes,
Bon voyage Vermont.
Good bye home.

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