Some of the In Between

After the initial restructuring of all my "necessary" gear on the Cajon Pass, I veered off the freeway to highway 395 and my first fuel up. Heating up too. 104 degrees @ 10 am. Voting against the larger fueling station, I found a single pump a top the rise, and not disappointingly, the old man sitting out front with a fly swatter across his lap. Drooping, red eyes, thin as a pretzel and legs knotted just as tight, he watched me fuel up, check my bungees, which I later traded for tie downs you crank to get your load secure, and in his all-the-time-in-the world drawl asked me how long I'd been on the road.

Today. I told him. He took a big breathe, (a sign of the beginning to his adventure)

"Wife and I use to ride." He flipped the swatter on his knee and told me the story of when they were riding and got into an accident. He had always told her to wrap her arms around his shoulders and get her feet up into his crotch, if it looked like they were going down. It did. She followed his instructions, got her feet up into his crotch and wrapped her arms around his head, blocking his view. He chuckled, it was a few months before we were able to get up, but we made. Didn't ride after that.

We were about ready to part ways when he motioned with his swatter to an object I had been fixing in the bungee cords earlier.

I pointed to the pair of flat iron pieces under the spare fuel can. "These are the wind breakers my husband made me for the highway bars if it gets too cold." He nodded his head and waved me on. Never asked where I was going, never told him.

I never used the wind breakers. They were just too warm when attached to the highway bars. They were left at Collin's on the way home, in Seattle. Abbey made a sticker for one of them. With her highway prayer on it.

"Lord, keep my mama safe on the roads as she travels her dream. In Jesus Name."