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A time ago, when my mom was dying, my marriage was toast and I hated my job, I had thoughts about it. Recreational pharmaceuticals only dulled me but waking up the next morning and I still had the issues to deal with. Weird thing was the thing that kept me going was my motorcycle: putting on the helmet was a metaphor for blocking out things. The most delightful feeling to know that for 200 miles at least I did not have to talk to anyone or deal with any crap.
Sorry to hear of your loss Kevin.
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gary
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