A
hard right is what the GPS said, and keep going and going, and...more
whoops, more sand more rocks, narey a hole in the fence, no.
Top
of a particular rocky butte the trail just meandered on.
.
Checking
the GPS, she said (and I mean She) to go some 1.5 hours in the same
direction to Highway 395...not. My mama raised no fool, maybe...
Screwit,
I finally found a bare trail and started heading westerly from whenst
I came. Oddly enough, I came across some othere trail preserve, weird
place, official BLM sign with no info, just this tree and some manicured
trails.
Still
she tells me closest road is northwest so, out of the whoops at least
I head out on these wide graded wash roads,
Good
speed, still they went on forever til I hit 395, about 25 miles from
KramerJunction. Oh boy, against the wind to tthe windiest junction in
the west...
Stop
at the four corners for a breather. HOW do I do these things?
What
are the chances?...
That's
right, it's an orange crayola, must be a sign, I start trippin', maybe
it was the heat that spiked my creative old acid brain...
Screw
it, I just beat it home, super slab it. Fuck you truckers.
One
last shortcut across the trail of crashing orange bikes. Beer me GPS
girl.
The
End.