Woody met Mike Hollister on the side of the road while filling his tank. The clover was green, traffic on 101 sparse, so I’d slipped off the bridle so Woody could have a feed while I pondered how we’d cross the bridge ahead.

“What are you doing about the Core Creek Bridge?” Mike asked me a few minutes after he’d pulled up for a gam. I stuttered the usual “Oh, he’s good in traffic” bit and before I could get… Continue reading →