Meating with Rob

Yeah i spelt it fine...
The next morning Joe's dad put me on a lovely road to Lincolnton, and despite it not quite being finished! (the workers waved a mere bicycle through) it was a real blast. In lincolnton I text Rob and he was already home. Happy that I had time to spare I stopped for a rest in 36th Street cafe. Here I started chatting with Holly.
After a time conversation led me to ask about her beautiful tattoo. Sure enough it had a story behind it. I won't relate it here for it isn't my tale to tell, but Holly's. It was the manner in which she told me that has stayed with me a week now. Sometimes we believe that words convey all the meaning you need. Not so. Here was an example of how the words didn't even hint at the true nature of her tale. It was the timbre of voice and profundity in the telling. We lack great tellers of tales this days. You can hear it when a great narrator opens up a film and you know you are in for a good time. Holly clearly didn't choose to talk of this with many, and she skirted detail with me. Nonetheless I felt honoured and that enough had been said.

Then she said something that made me think. She viewed God as love, a spirit impartial and apart from human creation. It was the problem with religion today, that it is wielded by humans. That too stuck with me.
Incidently, whilst I don't believe in spirits (perhaps ghosts is a better word) I do often hold silent congress with what I will call an angel. It's not that I expect it to appear, but it is an alternate me, as though I were perfect and could achieve all things. Like a discourse with yourself if you will although I would prefer to call it the 'ghost of romantic reason', as it sounds less crazy and more poetic. Talking through a problem with this ideal in mind has helped a few times.

Seems reasonable! Bet Curson could give them to me for free though!

After leaving Lincolnton, I made it to Rob's in a dreadful rush hour, and met Katie, his wife. they have only been married 6 months or so, and I hadn't seen Rob in years. After I insisted on a shave, and several lacerations later, we went for a meal. Rob asked me to choose and after days of Tuna and pedaling, Red MEAT was the only option. A good old steak! And it was good. Stories were swopped and the night grew late. We were the last ones sat in the bar, so we moved to the Kilted Buffalo (great if you're in the area) and carried the night on, plus Blaire our waitress, and th efour of us joined in disgraceful conversation tinged with awesome beers! I had expected American beer to be all lager. Not at all I'm delighted to say, and my favourite thus far has to be Blue Moon.