"I'll meet you in marfa, texas," i told my friend Mike Mosiman, "if I can ever get out of Wisconsin." It wouldn't be easy. We'd had two blizzards in three days, and my driveway was sculpted in drifts and hollows like some frozen treat from Dairy Queen. Nevertheless, I fired up my Suzuki DR650 and slithered through the deep snow into the van. Success. I was on my way to Texas.
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