The masochistic foodie in me

My stomach is growling, I can totally sit here on the gravel parking lot and eat a can of chili as a marvel at my mud speckled legs and just relax, but I’m in Napa and I want to eat good food, I know I can’t eat anything here, but the masochist in me pushes me into my car and drives my sorry redneck muddy self to Yountville.

I know summer has officially begun, because I am driving shirtless, my mountain bike is on my roof caked in mud, the Dead is blaring from my radio and both windows are down throwing my hair into a frenzy.


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