Crazy Little Thing Called Love

On Sunday I went with a friend to the old abandoned train bridge. Visiting this bridge has been a longtime dream of mine, and I decided to go on a whim. It was a foggy late afternoon that made everything look surreal and mystical.

I'm terrified of heights, but I fucking love train bridges. Walking out onto the old wooden ties above the Connecticut River was so scary I didn't know if I could do it. I thought I might get halfway out and freeze, unable to get back. But I wanted it really bad.

Of course,  this is all a metaphor for my life right now. I'm walking through a gorgeous, disorienting fog toward something huge and high that I hope can hold me. And sometimes I panic.

Then today I heard this on the radio:

I gotta be cool, relax, get hip
And get on my tracks

Me too, Freddie, me too! But how? How can I be cool like you?


Evidently it involves riding a motorcycle in full leather gear plus some great big knee pads.