My Dad taught me, through quiet repetition, about risk. If there was one thing he brought home to me, it was how so many risks pale in comparison to the dangers of one ride in a car. Yet we all ride.
That came to mind as I was reading a journal of a motorcycle ride through the area around Chernobyl. I haven't finished it yet, but it fascinates me. Thanks to Margaret for the link.
A poem for today
1 week ago