A gentleman named Mel Raskin sent this to me via e-mail. It’s an incisive essay about his loneliness as a 92-year-old. Mel mentions clerical work …
The Dodge Retort.
That's me getting up after crashing on my bike in September, 2017. I rode another 24 miles with three broken ribs to finish the Seacoast century. Heroic, yes. Stupid, yes.
