The Toll For The Road Less Travelled

As I sit here in my wheelchair, waiting for something — anything — to break the monotony, I find myself stuck between boredom and a one-sided texting war with someone I once considered a friend. I’m waiting for the ring of a doorbell, the ring of a phone, a spark of inspiration, a shift in the stagnant air. Anything to pull me out of the moment.

And yet… somehow, unbelievably, I’m still looking forward to tomorrow.

It feels like the world is testing me in a dozen different ways this week. Testing my patience, my trust, my body, my spirit. But even through all of it, I find myself optimistic — genuinely, stubbornly optimistic — that the day after tomorrow will be amazing. That all I have to do is keep doing the work. That I will find my footing, one unsure step at a time, even if that step wobbles like hell.

What does tomorrow hold? I have no fucking idea.

I know it’ll be minus a few “friends,” and honestly, good riddance. I know it’ll be a little farther down the road than I am today. And I know I’ll wake up with a heart that’s still beating and a mind that refuses to quit. That’s enough.

I don’t yet know what’s going to happen with my bike — my bike. The old bike. The totaled bike. Insurance is totaling it, and I still need to talk with them to understand everything clearly. But here’s what I do know: it will all work out.

I may be down a bike, but I’m not down to zero.
Aurora — my 2025 Harley Breakout 117 — is still here.
A heartbeat waiting for when I’m ready to ride again.

Will I get another Road King Special someday?
Yeah.
Probably next year.
I don’t know when, but I fucking loved that bike. “King of the Road” may be a self-proclaimed title, but it earned it. And it earned a place in me.

I’ve missed a paycheck or two, but my short-term disability was approved. The money will work itself out. Even if things are tight for a bit, I know I’ll be fine. The universe is testing me — but it’s also got my back. It always does.

Maybe this testing is just a kind of cosmic cleansing.
A toll paid to take the road less traveled.

Because I know this much with absolute clarity: The people who stand on the other side of this tragedy with me — they are the true gems. The rare ones. The ones I will forever protect with everything I have. This accident may have broken bones, but it also revealed truth. And truth always shows you who’s real.

Maybe this accident, as brutal and inconvenient and life-altering as it was, was necessary to get me back onto the right path. A hard reset. A violent rerouting. A reminder.

I’ve always had grit.
Tenacity.
Determination.
I’ve always been able to put one foot in front of the other even when the wind was blinding and the cold threatened to erase me.

I persevere.
It’s what I fucking do.

And every time — every single time — I come out stronger. Wiser. Sharper. With a better perspective on life and an even clearer understanding of where I once stood.

Time is the ultimate arbiter of truth.
And I respect the hell out of it.