I find myself walking up a mountain...

[NONE_too_SOFT]

on a brisk evening in early April. cars are passing me with fervor, ignoring the thumb I've thrust at them with a sense of hopelessness. People don't pick up hitchhikers anymore. The sun has been down for nearing thirty minutes, and all I've got are my thoughts, this slow gravely road, and a looming mountain. What has brought me on this hopeless walk hundreds of miles from home are a mixture of fate and hope, and the walk I've laid before myself has eerie similarities to the journey I've taken since i last graced gods earth on two wheels.

Thoughts of turning back cross my mind. Giving in would be so easy, as I've just barely even made it to the base of the mountain. 3 or four miles back wouldn't be so bad, considering the road has been straight up until now. But the road veers away from the mountain, being a mere few hundred yards from the dimly lit road ascending the hill, so densely populated by moving lights and even more so foliage of the most sinister type: gnarly trees waiting in angst for the weather to bestow upon them their source of life, much like we all wait through winter with a sense of melancholy in these northern states.

The road veers away farther from my destination, away from the goal I've set before myself like some sort of symbolic journey. Deciding what to do now was no hard choice. I could have followed the road, i could have turned back, but i couldn't take my eyes off of the light gleaming from the top of the mountain.

The field was wet, it was dark, and it was foreign. Fences have been jumped, streams crossed, and now i find myself looking straight at my nemesis, head cocked 60 degrees following the dark woods. about two hundred yards of terra firma is what lies between me and the pavement that leads to the light at the end of my journey.

Slipping on dead leaves, grabbing for any signs of roots and small shrubbery while thorn bushes and brier patches try to hold me down was not how i planned on spending this night. Determination has set in though, and the more i'm torn down the more i remind myself how far I've come, and it dawns on me that this mountain has become my white whale.

Making it to the road, i had to catch my breath. I turn around to look down about the near cliff i had just climbed, and i was come over with a feeling of relief. Adrenaline fading fast, again I'm left with my thoughts, the gravely road, and passing motorists. I don't bother sticking my thumb out, i wouldn't want to cheat myself after making it this far. The road is winding up this mountain, and i feel as though I'm falling uphill while making it to the steeper parts of the road. to my right, a guard rail, to my left, a ledge cut out of the mountain for this winding road.



I think back to the events that ultimately transpired to bring me to this walk. Thoughts are swirling, thoughts that will have feelings of brief genius, but i will ultimately never remember. Riding is something that had taken me out of a dark place in my life, and nothing else could have done as good a job at changing my views in life. Here i am again, counting on my motorcycle to bring me out of this slump and into a new season of life's memories.


Tavern on the hill. I've made it. Its maybe forty five degrees and i am sweating from the trek I've taken. It seems I've made my way back to civilization. I take a moment to look down from the mountain I've ascended, and all i see are orange lights speckling the ground. I wonder if I'll remember this thirty years from now, but the thought escapes my mind as quickly as It came. I realize I've made it to the top of my mountain, and now it is time to reap the spoils of my journey.


and now I've nearly made it to the top of my mountain, with 2 days to go, i can smell the engine in my nostrils and i can feel the grips in my hands.