I don't anticipate rolling on a dirt road for a while, so it is time to blast off the powdered clay. It shows so well on the midnight blue paint. Twenty Five seconds of dry time remain. I am wearing a pair of khakis marked with marl smudges and barbed seeds. I took a stimulating walk through a deep woodlot near Euler Lake, amazed by the number of deer stands and blinds. Time to change into a fresh pair of blue jeans. I hate doing quick changes in gas stations. It makes me feel like a hobo. A Wilbo is not a hobo or a boho.
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