“The speed limit is 35 all along here Larkin.”
“I know George, I’m only going 37, but I’ll slow down a bit.” I say as I tap the breaks and hit the air horn at the same time while passing stopped a minivan oddly turned in the right lane. The street looks strangly post-apocalypic, with every car I pass stopped at some weird angle. All the lights are green as I move through town just a hair over the speed limit.
Again, adrenaline rushing, no where to go, it pools… slowely filling …

Adrenaline still managing to push around whatever small things are running my motorskills, I sit on my yoga ball at work bouncing, smiling, and listening to some Tom Petty.
Where did this adrenaline come from you ask? Well I’ll tell you without too many of the gory details if I can. About 4:30 yesterday afternoon my pager went off for an injury accident. The tone went out and the dispatcher said 5 parties still stuck in the vehicle.

I’m in a daze, whether from my headache and lack of sleep or some emotional roller coaster I’m not sure.  Does it matter which?

I had my first actual BES call this morning to recover the body of a 17 year old kid who was climbing on some rocks above S. Boulder Creek last night.