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Born to be wild...

On the way to work the other day I saw a man who made me long to be free. That morning he was everything that I was not. He was the personification of freedom. Even though it was only 9:00 AM, I was already bound by guilt for not yet being at work.

I was caught in traffic lamenting my tardiness, rethinking my morning steps. I remembered the number of outfits that I had changed. I reconsidered my decision to have a leisurely morning—exercising, enjoying my tea and toast in front of the television watching the “Today Show”. Perhaps I should have run out of the house hungry. I could have put on my mascara in the car—that is after all what the tube in the glove compartment is for, isn’t it?

Anyway, as these thoughts were going through my head, I saw him. He was on a motorcycle, riding without a helmet. Instead, he had on a mustard colored bandana that was blowing in the wind. He had on Timberlands, shorts, and a leather vest. I noticed the smile on his face, complete with dimples—he even chuckled. The way the sun shined down on him he appeared to be glowing. When the traffic light changed, he appeared to fly into the distance.

He blew me away. That morning at least, he was unburdened. His only concern was enjoying the ride.

For an instant, I envied him so much. I craved that freedom. And I wanted some for myself. Based on all my adventures this summer I have been thinking that I was born to be wild--at least a little bit. Then, I remembered all of the motorcycle accidents that happen to folks like him. I realized at least for me, freedom must be tempered by good judgment.

Simply put, while I intend to ride free, I shall always wear a helmet!
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