I thought it was going to be a routine run to the market, grabbing that just before midnight beer as I finished my work on a Wednesday night. The Red Sox had just won the World Series and I thought I owed it to myself. I borrowed a bike from a friend and gunned it down Middle Path, wind in my hair, not a care in the world as late-October Kenyon flew past me. Little did I know how quickly tables would be turned that night.

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