"Deebo, the Devil, and My Ride"

On this fateful day off, as gray clouds brewed their tempest overhead, Deebo and I, spirits high, ventured forth into the park. Our joyous ride was soon enveloped in a torrential downpour, transforming our path into a dance with nature’s wilder side. Seeking refuge, we drifted through the golf course, our fat-tire bike gliding over the rain-soaked greens like a ghostly apparition.

Upon returning I parked the Fat Tire Bike on the front porch just beneath my front window. As we entered the Dream House (my apartment) A large old Castle like building with towering wall on either side, and Me directly in the middle of this U shaped Construction. an inexplicable chill seized me, its icy fingers wrapping around my soul. The warmth of my home stood powerless against this supernatural cold. I changed into dry clothes, yet the cold deepened, as if unseen, malevolent eyes watched from the shadows. Desperate, I cranked the heat to a sweltering 90 degrees, but the bone-chilling freeze persisted, a spectral presence in my sanctuary.

My black Martin acoustic guitar, usually a source of comfort, lay untouched as the chill barred my fingers from dancing over its strings. In search of warmth, I cranked the old heater as high as it could go 90 degrees. nothing, 20 minutes later nothing still Freeezing, painful, and deep in my bones. I ran the shower on Hot and filled the bathroom up with steam. Hoping this might alleviate the Chill. At this point I am sitting on the toilet, in all of my clothes, the Heat on 90, in a steam filled bathroom talking out loud to myself "Why am I Cold?". I proceeded into the Shower. Hot water cascaded over me, yet it was only a fleeting shield against the cold that seemed to emanate from another realm. Now I have not said a Prayer my entire adult life. Not since I was kicked out of Catholic School all those years ago, But In this vulnerable state, I found myself reciting an Our Father, a prayer unspoken since childhood – a shield against the darkness encroaching upon my soul.

As time passed, the heat of the room finally banished the unnatural chill. Clad in green jeans and a leather jacket, I felt a resurgence of warmth, not just physical but spiritual. With the storm outside quelled, I let music flow from my guitar in a defiant act of reclaiming my space from the shadows. My melodies became a hymn of resilience, a testament to choosing light over darkness.

But as the evening beckoned for another ride with Deebo, a cruel twist awaited. Stepping outside, I was confronted with a void where my bike once stood. The vandalized mailboxes bore silent testimony to a sinister act. In this moment of loss, a chilling realization dawned on me: this was no mere theft, but a darker force at play, angered by my refusal to succumb to its icy grip.

Yet, in this theft, I found an unexpected peace. The bike, my cherished chariot, was a small price to pay for the preservation of my soul. It was a trade I would make willingly, a testament to choosing the path of good in the face of encroaching evil. Deebo and I, undeterred, walked on, our spirits unbroken, our hearts resilient in the knowledge that we had triumphed in a more profound battle.

We Will Ride Again!

Deebo's NutZ!!!