Just as Junior Murrow exclaimed from the reggae vaults within Jamaica, later to be imported to the isle of Britain and be popularized by the world famous Clash, I encountered an instance of police interaction on my most current extended jaunt.
Before you the reader, thinks my arms are placed behind me while standing against a squad car.... well, think in opposites. My failing eyes witnessed seven police cars with their flashing lights greeting a lonely car. Multiple police officers with their fingers attached to their guns pointed in the direction of the car.
The previous few words stringed together are just a description of what I witnessed during my previous endurance journey adding up to 14 miles on my electronic pedometer. Truthfully speaking, I can not stretch the truth and invent a story in light of the USS Maine explosion in relation to yellow journalism and the start of the Spanish-American War. Simply said, I do not know.
A couple days later while navigating through the world wide web's music video connection, Youtube, I encountered the embed located below this rant. This ditty seems to be the best reminder of the latest journey that my legs carried me to.
The vacant area on the left is supposed to represent my mind during a long run!
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