JC


The trip was going well.
Well, pretty well.
Okay, some of the trip was going well. The bike was gliding along the highway like she was riding on air. I had plenty of food, was well hydrated and the scenery coming down the coast was amazing. I had to stop a few times, snap a few photos. It was different on the bike than it would be in a car... I just felt so close to nature.
It was that so close to nature thing that was the problem. I'd been so excited to get on the road that I hadn't realized that all of my layers were in a suitcase in Eric's trunk, headed for Taos. The wind was whipping right through my sweatshirt and leather jacket. I'd forgotten how cold it can get in the desert and as I worked my way south, then east, I realized I hadn't timed this trip very well. The pavement was clear but sprinkles of snow dotted the dirt and tumbleweeds that spanned before me on one flat plain. In the distance, the landscape was white.
"Shit," I hissed.
"What?" Eric asked, his voice in my ear via the earbud. He was at the air strip and was just about to board the plane.
"Nothin', man. Fly safe, alright? I'll call you when I'm close."
"You still have time to change your mind. Are your teeth chattering?"
"It's uh...." I shook my head, trying to stop the chatter reflex. "It's just bumpy out here. Let me get off the line so I can concentrate. Talk soon."
I pulled the bud from my ear and tucked it down my shirt, then pulled the scarf tighter around my neck and zipped my jacket up. It was futile, since a biting wind was tunneling through a gap at my waist.
I could pull off, call Eric back, hold off the plane, have someone come and get my stupid ass, who thought I could just hop on a motorcycle and ride to Taos. It was only a twenty hour trip. At the very least. No problem, out here in the desert where it was so. fucking.  cold.
I was an ice cube. But I was also stubborn. And I didn't want to see Eric's smug grin or be the butt of endless jokes about this trip. So I stayed on course, pushed forward, my fingers freezing around the barrel of the steel handlebar, my legs slowly losing feeling.
Around sunset, I was doing better. I had stopped for a cup of hot tea. I was halfway to Taos and feeling like I could manage the rest of the trip, no problem.
Snow was falling but it was soft and light, just flurries floating on air. I should have probably stopped to sleep, but I wanted to keep going, get as far as I could, then pass out. I pushed the door open and stepped out of the roadside coffee house, zipped up, mounted the bike and pulled out onto the road.
I'd been riding for about an hour. The snow was falling heavier, but I saw the lights of a small town and a looming mountain ahead. I felt great about making good time and felt like that mountain was telling me I was on the right track. I'd find a spot to stay and call it a night.
And then my back tire slipped on a patch of black ice and everything went left.
I skidded across the road, trying to lower my speed and keep the bike balanced, but it was a big, heavy, vintage bike and I was out of practice- it had been too many years to count since I'd taken any motorcycle courses.
I found out quickly that I was no match for the ice on the road. The wheels locked up as I slid, then scraped across the highway and into a deep, snow-filled ditch.
I was somewhere in the desert. It was pitch black. I was pinned under my bike and buried in about six inches of snow. I felt a swath of road rash burning down my side, all the way down my thigh.
And it hurt to breathe.

"Son? Do you know where you are? Or where you were goin'? Son? These kids, rippin' through here on these bikes in this weather-"
My eyes opened to a round, gentle face and two big brown eyes illuminated by a flashlight.
"There you are. How ya feeling? Does anything hurt?"
"Uh...." I licked my lips. Despite all the snow around me, my mouth was dry. "Breathing... hurts. And I think I lost some skin."
"Uh huh, yeah. Little bit of blood in the snow. I've got my wrecker on the way to get the bike, but me and my Deputy are going to try to lift it off of you. Any issues with your legs, son?"
I wiggled my toes and tried to move my legs. No dice. "Don't think so... but... can't move."
"Alright. You just take it easy and keep breathing, okay?"
Not a problem, I thought. Just keep breathing.
More footsteps crunched through the snow. The area was bright now, lit up by red and blue flashers and halogen headlight beams.
"We gonna try this?"  
"Yep, let's do it."
I heard a few grunts, more than a couple of curses, a goddammit this thing is heavy! and then the sweet relief of the bike being lifted off of my leg.
"Alright son, hang in there. Just relax for now.  Ambulance is on the way."
I tried to sit up, shaking my head. "I don't need..." My eyelids fluttered and my brain suddenly felt like it was made of cotton candy.
The... Sheriff, I guessed, pushed me back. "I said relax! You could have spinal damage." She mumbled something about out of towners and pulled a walkie talkie from her belt. "Amos, where in hell are you? I called you ten minutes ago. I'm damn sure glad this patient isn't near death."
"Bout a mile away," crackled the response. "You should hear sirens in a second. It's a busy night, the roads are bad and there are some accidents."
"Alright, well get your ass here. Guy's trying to sit up and move around. I need him strapped to a gurney."
"Keep your unders on, Sheriff. Be right there."
A wail of sirens sounded in the distance and then got louder until the sound was deafening. I winced; my head was pounding.
"Okay, okay, you're here. Turn that shit off, now!"
Doors slammed, orders were barked among the Sheriff, her deputy and two paramedics, the sounds echoing into the night. Meanwhile, I was lying in a ditch surrounded by snow.
"What we got here?"
"Bike skidded off the road. Guy's in the ditch. Balls probably froze off by now."
"They don't freeze off, Sheriff. They retr-"
"I don't even care, Amos. I promise. Get him outta there, will ya?"
"Sir, can you hear me?" A flashlight beamed so brightly, I couldn't open my eyes. "Can you talk?"
"Yeah... I'm here."
"What's your name?"
"... J... Josh. Joshua."
"Joshua? You sure, or it just sounds good?"
"Yeah. Joshua. But-"
"Okay, Joshua. We're gonna lift you out of there, but first I need to put this brace on you."
A stiff, molded plastic and Styrofoam thing was velcroed around my neck, holding my head in place. And then I was being lifted from the ditch and strapped to a stiff, flat board. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my bike being loaded onto the bed of a tow truck.
"Aw man," I moaned. "That bike is new. Kinda. It's vintage."
"Well, she might be trash, now," I heard as the gurney rolled past the scene.
I was loaded into the back of an ambulance. The sound of the siren returned and then I was being whisked away to an emergency room, where I hoped they had a lot of painkillers.