Hot Austin

Riding the trusty Shadow is painful. Honestly. I’ll hit pockets
of air on the highway that, if I had to guess, would be like driving through the
exhaust of a fighter jet. The hot air scorches my face and makes my eyes
dry out and water. It is hot. It’s so hot that my palms sweat.
Usually my palms will only sweat if I’m nervous.

It’s so hot that I really don’t think I am going to sit out on the blacktop
parking lot while wearing my navy blue polyester Adidas jogging suit and eat
bulky slices of Romano cheese and drink warm chocolate milk like I had planned.

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