…. I sat in the dirt a few to catch my breath and regain composure. I had to push the bike up the hill or I’d be stuck. So up hill I went. The bike was heavy and the ground was soft. I heaved and pushed and strained and grunted. Foot by foot I forced the bike upwards. Another half hour and I laid in the dirt shielding my face from the sun to catch my breath. I was near the top of the hill.
When the countdown hit one I used every bit of strength I had to push the bike down through the rocks. At top speed I jumped on and dumped the clutch. The rear end hopped around and the bike sputtered and dragged to a halt. I knew I was close. There was space for one more good run before I’d have to go back up. My body was exhausted, my mouth was dry, and it was hot.
Again the countdown began and soon I ran along side the bike, digging into the ground and propelling it forward. I hit the firmest section of ground at decent speed, hopped on and dropped the lever. The bike roared to life and I think I damn near smiled.
I pulled down to the bottom of the hill by my gear, put the bike into neutral, and let off the lever….. sphump…… FUCK, it wasn’t in neutral.
Back where I started.
Another hour later and the bike was running once again. I was now drained, soaking wet, and so thirsty it hurt. I had been stuck for well over two hours pushing the bike at the peak of sunlight in the middle of the desert, with no idea where I was.
The road I thought might lead to salvation did not, so I had to traverse the mountain rocks a third time and continue in the original direction.
There were no houses, no recent tire tracks, no signs of life anywhere.. . . . . .
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