"Man, do I hate driving on these two lane roads at night", Matt thought reflexively. Part of the reason is the winding turns with the dark edges but the bigger skeve is the thoughts that run through the mind as the road appears to have no end. Matt's had a fairly trauma-less life so far. A couple of things his folks went through left some bad memories and his military stint was unpleasant but truly forgettable. It's really these thoughts about finding the balance between adventure and simple pleasure that make Matt's nighttime driving experience a chore. On one hand there's an opposable thumb and on the other there's monkey love in a toboggan going full speed down the expert hill. "Watch it!" Damn these curves. Oh sure, it's a factor of age - twenties=adventure to the power of 10. Sixties, maybe Vivaldi with a mellow malbec with some hand-crafted inducement. Oh boy - is that the sign for the by-pass? Wonder if I'll ever need a by-pass - - - I can still fartlick (Ed Note: it's a marathoners term for short sprints at a quicker pace) when I'm on the Gazelle. Maybe these morning workouts are diversions from the truth that if I tried to run a mile, the time would be about 20 - 25 minutes, but that's better than being winded in the first 100 yards. Ah, the exit's ahead. When I get home I'm going to jot a few notes in notepad and get ready for night-night. Is that gay for a grown man to call bedtime 'night-night'? No more than saying 'aaaaahhh' after sipping the malbec. So I kissed me a girl and kissed her again and then, oh lordy how I kissed her again.