Temperature Change

Last night was rough. The desert dropped in temperature as soon as the sun was down and it must have been well below freezing. I woke up this morning feeling stiff and achy. Not just from yesterday’s long ride, but from the cold. I lay on my back, looking up at the black sky. There was a warm, purple glow on the horizon where the sun was coming up. I rolled over, got to my knees, and stretched.

I stumbled around my tiny camp for a few minutes before I realized I was no closer to making coffee. I slapped my face a little bit to get the blood flowing. My stove started easily, and water was boiling in no time. The smell of coffee blended with the desert sand brought back memories of past adventures. I rolled my sleeping bag up and sat on it, leaning back against my motorcycle. The sun climbed slowly while I sipped my coffee.

Hours later, I was hot, sweaty, pumping with adrenaline, and flying through the never-ending dunes. Sand blasted all around me as I crested yet another enormous rise. I gunned the engine just before the top, sending me sailing. In the long seconds while I floated above the earth, I saw that the dunes tapered off fairly soon. The sea glittered off to my right, and rocky plains stretched out ahead.

Exhaustion hit me well before I reached the hard ground. By the time I was riding on the flatlands I was drifting mentally. It was dangerous, but I couldn’t think of returning home defeated. The light was dim and the shadows were long. A ravine opened up right in front of me. I floated again, this time uncontrollably. It felt like I fell for hours, hearing the wind around me, seeing every stone, every scraggly bush, smelling the dust of the dried waterway below me. I hit the ground seconds later. Everything erupted into flames.