I've got a couple errands to run in town today so I head out on the blue Kymco side by side. Barely a mile or so from the lodge I see a more street bike than dirt bike coming towards me. Really? I put my hand out for him to stop. I say "You know where you're going?" He says "Yes I know where I'm going." Then he pushes a button on his handlebars and his GPS lights up. "Monticello" he says. I say "The only way you can do that out here is to go down Lockhart Basin and you won't make it." He says "How do you know I won't make it." I say "I see the bike you're on, I saw you take your feet off the pegs driving through the gravel like you might have to put your foot down, I see the type of tires you have, the front one with little tread and fully inflated, and I know Lockhart Basin." He says "I have a new tire on the back." I say "You won't make it and probably nobody will try to go down it again until the weekend and that's when they'll find you, in four days."
It was silent. Like the birds were today during the eclipse. When the fridge shut off, there was no noise. Two rafts coming silently down the river, nobody talking, no animals, no birds, quiet, like right now. He's still staring at me, searching, and I'm not letting go of his eyes.
"I believe you."
1 comment:
Truth is tough. Good that you are.
Post a Comment