June 14, 2006

   by AzureSkyy <>

So, I'm lonely. And bored. And emotionally drained. I feel like I'm going to rot in the very chair I sit in now. I can't sleep, I dont feel social, haven't written anything in forever. Also, I'm basically a self-made albino. So ... I decide, what the hell, even if you don't feel social, at least go get a tan, so that your skin is no longer, well ... Luminous? Fine, then, Self, I will. So HA.

Sooo, I go put some swimtrunks under my jeans, admiring the show of their blue/white/grey/navy flames through the holes in the leg, mutter an "I'm going. Bye." to my 'father', and hop on his bike, and off I go, after stowing the pants in the garage, having only put them on so that my father doesn't warm me forever about going to the pits... That, and said swimtrunks are the most comfortable shred of clothing I've ever worn in my life.

Biking down, iPod in my back pocket, Soilwork's "Nerve" thundering down my ears and back out my mouth, hands free of the handlebars, enjoying the rush of wind and clean air across my face, I go the mile or so to the bike trail, glide into the 1/2 mile mark on there, and off into the woods. But, I have to stop short on my 20MPH turn, because... Some jackass left a beaten up truck in the middle of the 5-foot-wide path.. "Fuck it. There's still space enough to squeeze by," and so I just grind against the tree and leaves in the way, look back after passing, shake my head, and get back on the bike. I ride down the rocky, iron-soil trail, hoping my battery will last once I finally get to the pit and my favorite rock to lay down and catch some of the last dying rays of the sun, since, lo, it's already five o'clock (Not that it matters, much, since the sun stays in the sky til about 10 o'clock..) but, when I get there, after another mile of biking and trailblazing, there's already like, three people there, with a fire. *sigh* I like my privacy, and was thinking of full-body tanning, so, I just decided to go the extra mile to this other minepit I discovered and loved while running with the crosscountry team a few years previously... I don't mind, not as if I couldn't use the exercise and extra air, right? So ... More crazy trails, barely wide enough for my mountainbike, muchless the four-wheelers that mystically made them, dips and drops, small ravines that drop off 20-ish feet on either side, and fallen trees. In other words, for this computer-bound quasi-jock part-nerd, one of the few exhilarating experiences he's had since his first kiss (and the lovely goddess-mortal he shared it with). At long last, I made it to the sprawling waters ... Over a mile of 200+ft depth, man-made lake, with small, random, pulverized-rock beaches, small, sharp mountains of flakey rediron stone, and an open, blue, clear sky ... I stood on a small outcrop, and let myself finally see the beauty of the place I've been living in, if only I could get away from the collection of houses, bars, and churches that we fools call a town.. Forty feet above the soft, sparkling waters, looking another hundred yards out, to the terraced stones, dottedwith small islands, and underwater trees, the sun beginning it's slow descent .. I felt happiness flood me. And loved it. But, alas ... I came down, looked at the iPod clock, and it was late ... it took me over 90 minutes to get where I was, and there was uphills to pass ... So, I remount, reverse, and ride on again through the trails and the woods... Nearing the first pit, I look through the trees, and the swimmers are gone, their fire half putout ... When, I ride for another few minutes, to see piles of billowing black smoke ... I stop, put my shirt back on, turn down the music ... And move forward. Sure enough, the fuckers started the truck on fire! Within ... Oh, I dunno ... Six inches of endless pine forest! With a soft, heartfelt "damnit", I peddle back, through barely-visible trails and onto the biketrail once more, past the pond and up the hill, to the closest Spur.. I ask for a phone, call 911, and tell them about the truck the people probably stole, drove out, stranded, and burned after they'd had their fun ... Left, and biked back to home. A day, an adventure, and at long last, an actual story to tell, even if it took about 90% longer than it needed to, to be told. ^.~

Published: June 15, 2006
Editor: stacy

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