Growler

Riding through a soft drizzle, mud spattering on my bare legs. Cool air across my recently shaved head. No helmet. Unmatched tires, too lazy to switch the slick on the back, left over from last winter's traner sessions. A Guinness trucker hat and a backpack coveting a growler full of IPA. A pleasant ride home from the Moose's Tooth. I don't quite understand this Bob Dylan movie that I am trying to watch.