A Morning Ride by A. Klesath



Traveling on the back of a motorcycle gives me the chance to see the world from a different perspective. It allows me the freedom to relax and watch the world fly by me. The sun is shining and the sky is clear with the road ours for the taking. As we start our journey into the canyon, the first thing I encounter is the remains of a fawn; my heart goes out to the mother her babies life cut short. Anger goes out to the person who carelessly speed down a road not paying attention to the world around them. I send out a little prayer to heal her broken heart as we continue our journey. Through the canyon I see flowers bursting with colors all around me and the promise of spring. The smell of sage fills the air and the Balsamroot, Indian Paintbrush, and Lupine make my heart burst with hope.

We stop shortly to stretch and readjust, my back is not accustomed to sitting on a motorcycle after a long lazy winter. As we get back on the road, I hear the screech of a hawk and my body awakens as I look up to see her flying with ease through the sky. I take a deep breath and try to imagine what it must be like to fly. As we ride down the mountain road I stretch my arms, close my eyes, and try to envision what it would feel like to be free from gravity. I guess someday I should try cliff jumping or something crazy like that.

As the pavement turns to dirt we choose various roads that look smooth enough to travel. As we turn a tight corner we reach a steep hill that we either have to climb or turn around and find another option. As my husband is attempting our ascent our tires sink two feet into the dirt. I climb off the motorcycle, reach down to touch the  dirt, and realize if feels like chalk dust; miles and miles of chalk dust!! My husband attempts to ride up the hill as I begin walking straight up. Have you ever climbed up a chalk mountain with motorcycle boots? I don’t recommend it. For every two steps I take I slide back one. Cursing my husband for being lucky enough to ride on the bike; I huff and puff up the steep, dusty incline. When I reach the top he smiles and says, “What? Was that hard?” “Ha ha, no problem!” I say,  as I futilely attempt to throw dust at him only to have it fly back in my face.

We quench our thirst and begin to ride again. Good thing I trust my husband fully or some of these roads would completely freak me out. To keep calm I close my eyes through a particularly treacherous rocky ditch. This prevents me from allowing my imagination to create deathly images of crashing. “Oh, this is nothing,” is all he seems to say laughing all the way down.

When we hit pavement again I can breath. Although I enjoyed every inch of our ride through chalk-like dirt and narrow ditches. look back on our ride and smile because the thrill of the ride forces me to overcome my fear and savor every moment I have on this majestic earth.

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