Then suddenly Samantha is gone. I pull over to wait, still no headlight. I turn back around and find her two turns back kneeling by her motor next to a field of purple thistles. “It just died and won’t start.” she says.
We go through the drill, gas and spark. Samantha takes the spark plug out and burns herself. I try to handle it and burn myself. It’s dead quiet, there’s no shade anywhere, not a tree in site. We put the spark plug back into the wire and watch the end for spark. It sparks but we change it out for a fresh one anyway. I try to see where the gas line goes from the carb into the motor but can’t find it. I pull the incoming gas line off for the hell of it, who knows, vapor lock? Samantha wants to try it again, nothing. Then I try it while twisting the throttle and it comes alive. I drive it around a little, who knows, and we’re off again. Flying down gravel roads, bumping over cattle guards and the land turns into scenery again.
It dawns on me that we’re far enough west that carrying a days supply of water would be a good idea. If the bike hadn’t started we could have camped right there if we had more water. Two bikes also means we can tow each other or just hop on one bike to find better mechanics than us.
The land changes. Empty expanses stretch out to the horizon. Trees disappear. The dusty gravel road aims straight to the end of the earth. It’s a lonely land, the kind that makes men weep for companionship. An alien landscape of prairie and nothing else.
The bikes hum on, indifferent. Samantha’s big back wheel kicks up a huge plume of dust that animates in the violence of sleeping earth stirred awake by a 40 mile an hour tire. The sun lights up the dust as it swirls in a long stream behind her. The endless road rolls out till the earth curves.
...our posts from the blog are a little long to post in their entirety but I'll put up excerpts when I can.
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