10 Comments

These picky, picky border crossing folks! At least they didn't ask you for your passport! (I always bring mine when visiting my sister in Toronto (and now, Quebec)...:-) !

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I assumed I would have a lot more trouble than I did because I DIDN'T have my passport with me...

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I can't believe I had to read this story rather than hear about it ALL week!! It's a good check-in story my friend. And, in my opinion after many, many times crossing the border as a former resident of Canada and a citizen of the USA, it very much depends on the border agent.

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I thought I shared this... huh. I was kinda off this week.

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The apple doesn’t fall… Reminds me of a couple of Mexico-US border crossings with illegal contraband during those Hippie wannabe days. Even at 10 I had fireworks. What a hoodlum I was!

Blond and Blue Salvation.

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Oh, yeah

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You realize this is your father, right?

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What a great story, Jeremy! Looking forward to hearing about it in oral form! 💙 🍁

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“The excitement of an unexpected challenge, the lure of the road, and the fineness of the pastoral landscape of farm, forest, and lake compelled me onward. That feeling of “what’s around the corner? what’s beyond that summit?” overcame any apprehension.”

Thank you for putting in precise and compelling words the joy of rural cycling. Balancing on the blade of what’s next and what might happen is good for the soul.

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Thanks, Joel. This urge has gotten me into trouble before, though! Like that time I got lost in the forest behind my home for an afternoon (and within city limits).

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