My kind of Mad
During a quiet, muggy day weeding in the green house at Les Jardins des Mondoux a curious looking man appeared at the end of the tunnel. He sat upon a sharp looking road bike. His slightly disheveled appearance accented by long curly hair and a five-o-clock shadow seemed a bit unbecoming of one in the saddle of such a bike. The bike was a Read the rest of this entry »
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