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He loaded the needed gear in the trunk of the Urals sidecar, remembering to take the extra gas can, it was going to be a long ride to Lookout Hill. He never understood the difference between a hill and a mountain, didn't much care to learn either, he just knew it was 150 miles just to get to it, then four miles of butt ugly broken up tar and dirt and washouts.

He got ****y once twenty or so years ago, thinking he knew WidowMaker road like a well used lover, he was wrong, and his arrogance cost him his lower left leg. He took a gully sized wash out too fast, got catapulted, and crushed his left shin beyond repair. Lesson learned.

He remembered coming up here last year with Red, it was a rough week. Red was quiet and moody, and spent most days running on barely an hour or two of sleep. He let the thoughts go.

He stopped at the little B&B in the notch, they served the best breakfast in the north country. He ordered simple, hash,pan fries and a grilled English muffin, ate silently and was on his way again in 20 minutes.

Up the battered road he climbed, each washboard, sudden sink hole, and patches of gooey mud reminded him why he bought the simple little Ural, though underpowered for highway use, it was just right for getting his ancient body around while still enjoying the freedom of riding.

He stopped at the camp site, and went to work clearing the encroaching overgrowth. After setting up camp, he sat back and fixed himself some lunch, nothing special, just some canned beans.

He started digging at about 4:00, by the time the hole was ready, it was about sunset, he went to the sidecar, and gingerly picked up Red's lifeless body. Hey Red honey, we're at your favorite spot. he lowered the dogs body into the hole, covered it, and spent a little while in silence and tears.

As hey lay there in the wilderness, it seemed that what them crack pot psycho babblers call closure , at least as best he could guess, and that brought some comfort to his soul.
 

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Thanks Dave. Bikers have heart.

Reminded me of my dog Tess and our good times past.

Cheers,
Haze
 
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