The Story Takes A Funny Turn

*** continued from previous post ***


We traveled about a half mile up the road and I am not ashamed to tell you that I was a smidgen paranoid. I'm scanning for bears. I'm looking in my mirror. The Pucker Factor came on full. Once again, don't play me like you don't know that a tightening sphincter is rated on a sliding scale. Dear God, you're in Naval Officer Candidate School. I would think your eyes would pop open every morning at about a 5. ‘The Factor’ is usually graded on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being a pleasant cup of tea with Aunt Marge, and a 10 narrowly missing being incinerated by a falling comet, was pushing upwards and establishing new territory around 15 or so.

It's difficult to balance looking back and keeping my mind on the road ahead. I think for a moment of asking your mother to monitor the situation behind us. ‘Say sweetie, if you feel hot breath, a soft grunting, and spittle on the back of your neck, would you be a dear and tell me?’ I decided against it. Your mom, champ that she is, was near the breaking point. So, I pushed the throttle when I could and hoped for the best.

Fortunately, the road began to level and smooth. It had also become a bit wider, and the wash-boards were less severe. I could actually pick a hard-packed line and get the bike up to a good cruising speed of 25 mph or so. I dared to think, just briefly, that we may get out of this yet. I began to offer supplication, deals, and bargains to whatever higher power may be glancing our way.

Here. Write this down. The problem with most higher powers is that, (now brace yourself for this is the truth), most are ass-hats. Complete knee-biters. Snickering into eternity, comparing stories. Picking out a pair of middle-aged mortals trying to enjoy themselves on a motorcycle, poking each other in the ribs and saying, "Here, hold my beer. Watch this!"

Remember that for the rest of your life. It will serve you well when you get too cocky.

This is where the story takes a funny turn. As we climbed a small hill, and curved round a small bend, I looked ahead to a straight stretch to see --- a moose. Yep, a frickin' moose.

And this was no friendly looking Bullwinkely animal. This moose, which was standing full in the road, looked about 38 feet tall. Seriously. I've never seen taller legs on an animal in my life. It looked like one of the pictures that a child would draw where they get the legs all out of proportion. ("Ah, that is a marvelous drawing sweetie. Nice giraffe. Wha . . .? Not a giraffe? A dog? Well . . . a fine dog it is sweetie. A fine, skinny and extremely tall dog with a loooooong neck.") As with the bear this moose was huge. What the hell, I thought, are there ANY small animals in Canada? Is Alberta the Costco of fauna? Couldn't I encounter an animal with a glandular disorder, so that, you know. . . I could feel superior for even a second?

The moose was completely blocking the road. Crosswise. Just standing there doing moosey things. Possibly calculating next year’s taxes. I have no idea. I am not learned in the ways of moose. I know they like squirrels, have their own University, (Whatsamata U), and can, when plied with applause do simple magic tricks with hats but that's as far as my knowledge extends.

Oh! One more thing. Sometimes if you say the right word ping-pong balls will drop from the ceiling.


*** the journey continues ***