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  • We were taking a bike trip around Lake Atwood in Ohio. There were five of us. Four of us took a hit of Strawberry Fields before we started out. I had never tripped before.

    Halfway around the lake, nobody was feeling anything. “Must have been bogus stuff!” Then my rear tire blew out. I told the others to go on up ahead, and if they came across a garage, to send someone back for me. I started to push my bike along the country road. There were cows in the field on the left of the road. I still wasn’t feeling any effects of the hit.

    I began to get extremely thirsty as I walked along that hot, country road, pushing that bike. I was beginning to sweat. “Mi-i-i-i-lk?” Who said that? I looked around. No one but me and the cows. The cows…no way.

    I walked over closer to the fence, and a couple of cows came over. We communicated, telepathically. I have no idea what the conversation consisted of, but I was tuned into them, and they had a lot to convey to me. This did not strike me as strange, at all. I’d just never noticed how cool cows were, before. Just something I had overlooked.

    Up the road I spied a little road side snack bar. It took me forever to push that bike to that glimmering oasis. I felt like I was in a movie and crossing a desert. I was nearly dieing of thirst by the time I reached it. I dragged myself up to the window, and there I saw a sign for a “Monster Milk Shake”. So, I said, “I’ll take a big shake”. The lady at the window asked, “Do you want a big shake, or do you want a B-I-I-I-I-I-I-G Shake?” Her mouth opened impossibly wide on the second “big”. I completely lost it, and couldn’t stop laughing. That’s when I realized what was happening. “Ohhhh, this must be tripping!”

    As I resumed pushing my bike, and slurping that monster shake, a car drove past me, and stopped and turned around. “Oh, my God, they’re coming for me!” I dove into the ditch, the shake flying in one direction and the bike falling in the other. It was my friends, coming back to get me. We rode back to a garage in town, all laughing hysterically at our shared first trip.

    The garage was in the little town of Magnolia, Ohio. Ever since, whenever I hear the Grateful Dead tune, “Sugar Magnolia”, I think of this town, and this first trip. Those first few I took were hilarious. They wouldn’t all be like that.

    I’ve never seen cows quite the same way, either.
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