Every day dirt bike riding has its share of excitement, challenges, and quirks. Yesterday, was- quirks. Roger and Mark and I rode with Orb and Yuger (their names have been changed due to the suit, so I used these clever names.). We rode out around Nelson, and at the first stop- a beautiful ridge with terrtiorial views of the desert, Orb said they were attending the prelimininary hearing for the shooting this week.
It seems that a guy shot at them, 'not too far from here' and they sicced the cops on him. He was an idiot, of course. They found meth at his place, and he was on probation from other felonies and such. Interesting.
The second stop, we paused on a ridge over a house, a compound, really.
"That's where the guy lived that shot at us."
"So... he's in jail, right."
"No, he made bail."
Made bail! Maybe he's down there. Maybe he's got another 30.06 with a scope, I don't know. But this seems like a silly place to talk about it, profiled on the ridge against the clear blue sky. Fortunately, nothing happened.
The third stop, we pulled up to a graveyard. In the middle of nowhere. I mean, the middle. Get on a dirt bike. ride to nowhere. No, a little farther South. More to the left. See that ridge? Up there. The flat spot, with the view of the Colorado River. That's it. See the gravestone? David_____ 1970-2005. 'Don't grieve for me, I'm finally free.' How did they pour the cement monument, and get the granite gravestone up here? And, the barbeque. That's right, a big cylindrical one, covered in rust. With a bag of briquets inside, and a wire brush. Don't forget the iron bench, to ponder David's life.
People loved him, apparently. They came up here and left a Budweiser bottle, Bud light can, and Coke, all unopened. A Christmas Gnome stands on the corner. There's a dollar billl in a glass jar, and a few necklaces and plastic flowers. A Waggoneer emblem rests on the slab. Quite a tribute to a guy, in the middle of nowhere. That's life (well, death, really) in the desert.