Rolling into my humble abode tonight, I swear the world was spinning faster than usual. Felt like I’d gone ten rounds with a six-pack of Cold Smokes. By the time I stumbled through the door, my head was on a merry-go-round, and my stomach was the ticket collector, eagerly waiting to show me the exit. Trust me, if I dare to stand, I’m just a ticking time bomb ready to redecorate the apartment in ‘Eau de Lunch.’
Hence, this blog entry’s gonna be short and not-so-sweet. Picture me, battling something wickedly akin to vertigo, the kind that usually hits me on sky-high mountain ridges, leaving me feeling like I’m duct-taped to the side of the Grand Teton. So, here I am, sending out an SOS from the floor. Somebody, throw me a lifeline—or at least, pass the bucket.
— Spectator at Togwotee Classic 2018
Boneshakerbike 
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