The Final Ride
I am ready. I feel good. I know I can do this. The master carefully unloaded me from the truck. What I don’t understand is, why does he keep piling more stuff on me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m up for the task, but did I see him stuff a “twelver” of beer into the yellow bag? And what’s that a rubber raft?
You know, he never got around to replacing my right handle but he did dry me out for two whole weeks in his garage (I lost four pounds...mostly water weight.)
The first mile was a good test for me; main beams... strong, top rails... holding, gussets and axles... solid. Oh, and did I mention he bought me brand new tires? Amazon I think. The new rubber under me bolsters my confidence even more! I am a lucky girl and he is a good master, but why are we stopping?
He’s throwing rocks. Miss. Miss. Hit. For some reason he’s left the comforts of this nice trail and has returned with this strange, flopping, white and brown bird. Why is he smiling? Oooh it’s dripping blood on me now. Stay focused.
We made it far that first day. He set up camp as the sun was setting over the Western mountain ridges. Peculiar; The click-clack of some weird hoofed animal ran past us in the pitch of darkness this night. It passed by the master’s tent within ten feet! I thought I heard sleigh bells, but that might just be my overactive imagination. I get carried away sometimes.
The next day we would double our efforts in mileage, but it seemed like much more because now the hills were against us. Nearly horizontal, the master would dig in the balls of his feet to drive me upward. He was breathing hard, and we would stop often. Up and up we went. The rare sun and heat of the day (for September that is) kept my humidity levels stable but I think it distracted the master from his duties. Often he would linger on rest breaks to “look” around. I forgave him for he is a good and true master, and over time I have learned patients.
Day three was a trying one indeed and it was one I will never forget. After cresting several (what I thought were) large hills we stopped for rest. From here the trail had taken us to the bottom of a mountain. There was no place else to go but up. Sure enough the trail cut into the hillside at a steep incline. “This is going to be tough on him.”, I thought. We took a longer break here and I appreciated it. I think the master did too because he spent about twenty minutes sitting on a nearby hill that was infested with some small blue circular fruit. He was stuffing them into his mouth as fast as he could and had a giant smile on his face. What a pig! But, with stained blue lips and a bounce in his step, he seemed to have a new lease-on-life. He gripped my lone handle with his left hand and stiff-armed me with his right on my transom railing and up we went.
Several hours later, and after many rest breaks, we crested the last of the hills. We made it! My work here was almost done. Over the hill we went. He even jogged a little on a downhill stretch (I know I can be difficult to control on the downhills, I blame it on the master for not installing brakes.)
Is this it? Have I reached the final resting grounds? He’s setting up his tent. He’s cooking his food. Oh here he comes. He’s removing my wheels! He’s breaking my beams to remove my axles. He’s cutting my crossbeams with his camp saw.
And now like I’ve dreamed about all these lonely years, I can clearly see he’s starting a fire. Oh my, what’s that in the bottom of the firepit? There, frosted over and completely rusted, are the remnants of my kindred brethren. The iron fasteners of my long lost lineage! My wood grains want to tear-up but my relative humidity is too low. I am emotional nonetheless.I know it will sting a little at the beginning but I am fully prepared for this. Long have I lusted for my passage to the undying lands. Today I burn.
