roadside_assistance pony Mama, he said through his nose, the next time we go to the island, can we drive the same way we did the last time? My heart squeezed. No, baby, we won't be driving the same way, we won't be driving at all. That drive will lead to a cabin of strangers, and a ring of campfire lit faces that no longer look out for our own. That life and that promise that I once allowed to be made to you, is broken, and we won't be making that annual trip one more time. Whatever way we go, wherever we go next, will be minus one wheel, the unruly one that lacked the traction we needed to go safely. It hit a nail, or a landmine, and we couldn't keep it with us any longer. Now we shall move at a tricycles pace, and stay closer to home, and here we'll adjust to a new tradition, for the triangle is the strongest shape. 240223 what's it to you? who go blather from