The summer I found the WayRider, i had become lost in rn unning against the rain. I would roll out with the lightening, and follow the run off water to the empty lot a few miles away from my house. , , I would dig until my hands were rW a aw . . . i I felt the mud had something more to p o offer. A shallow pitch of shovel cast him out into XXXXXXXXXXXXZX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX