Where The Hell Are Those Vikings When You Need Them?

*** continued from previous post ***

I hit the brakes on the bike and immediately your mother leans forward. At first I'm alarmed because I can smell the fear coming off her in waves. Then I realize it's just the smell of damp, musty, sweaty, human. And it's coming from me.

Mom chooses to conserve her energy lest she have to shiv someone, or something, and speaks one word. "BEAR????"

"No." Although In my mind I can see the bear closing the gap behind us, and after the kill, slipping a couple of bucks to the moose for the assist.

"No, this would be a moose. Big moose. Really big moose. Standing - well, make that blocking, the road ahead. See?" I say, and quickly take a hand off of the handlebars to point at what now looks like a tank on stilts a few yards ahead.

"Oh," your mom says, as if this were the most rational thing in the world. I could have probably told her that we were approaching a band of Mongols playing chess in pajamas and she would have just shrugged.

"Hopefully," I say, "it will not like the bike and move."

"Hopefully," Mom agrees.

I think you can see where this is going. As we crawled closer, but keeping a safe distance, the moose didn't so much as raise its head nor glance in our direction. It just stood there, licking the road. Seriously. Licking the fricking road. As if wet gravel and mud were the Cherry Garcia of the wilderness. It may be for all I know. Next rainstorm, I'm going to find a country lane and give it a try. You never know. Someone has to be the first to try something new. Think of the idiot that ate oysters for the first time. "Hey Thag . . . how oyster?" "Not bad. Like snot. Only fishy. Here. You try." "Screw you Thag. Me still recovering from licking live mountain lion you tell me taste like cotton-candy."
I stopped the bike. Moose in front. Bear in back. Cranky, wet woman sitting behind me. Full on dusk. Happy vacation!

Mom raised her shield. "What do we do now?"

"Cry?"

"Too late," Mom says.

Where in the hell were seven identical Svens and a Hagar when you needed them?



*** the journey continues ***