I fought to keep my hands holding onto the bike as feeling and sensation left them with the sub-zero cold and wetness. Occasionally, I would reached up and, in a futile exercise, try to clear the accumulated water from my face shield.
Ahead, something, a sign – blue. Has to be an indicator of something I thought.
Finally, it was.
I pulled the bike into the hotel parking lot. What a sight I must have been to the hotel clerk as I stumbled to the counter, barely able to speak as shivers wracked my body forcing a loss of nearly all body functions.
The clerk was able to determine that I needed a room, needed one right now. Forcing my hands into the soaked pockets of my jeans, I pulled a wad of cash out and dropped it on the counter.
“We need a credit card sir,” the clerk said.
“I don’t have one,” I stammered, “Please, I just need a hot shower; I’ll be gone in the morning, I promise,” I pleaded.
Looking me up and down real quick, the clerk agreed. Using the walls for support, I stumbled down the hall and made my way into my room. This was hypothermia; I knew it and my semi-lucid brain was directing me to get into the shower.
I turned on the hot water, not too hot at first. I didn’t want to scald myself and fell into the bath tub. Mother nature had down her absolute best to beat me, but this day, I had walked away. Not with a victory perhaps, but still alive all the same.
The rest of the trip would be no better.
Article comments
1 - Victor Lana
My father enjoyed this article. He road his Indian motorcycle from NYC to Mexico in 1947. He said that he had good weather all the way there, and on the way back they got hit with a "monsoon too" and stayed under a bridge overnight.
I really enjoyed this one and hope there is more to come of the story. Thanks.