The warm air of Texas is a relief after the cold northern breezes in the early part of the trip. The Harley has been running smooth for almost 2000 miles. I had to keep removing articles of clothing as I progressed south. Now I was left wearing my blue jeans and a white T-shirt, leather boots on my feet and a small black helmet covering my head. The rest of my gear rolled up in the bedroll tied on the back of the bike.
After checking a map I roll through the town and head out to Mustang Island State Park. I locate a campsite near the ocean. When I stop, the heat from the bike washes up over me, increasing the already warm temperature of the warm Texas sun. I step off and use my forearm to clear the moisture from my forehead. Standing, facing the ocean, closing my eyes, letting the sea breeze wash over me, cooling, soothing. The road slowly stops moving past my eyes.
It takes no time at all to set up my camp. Once the low tent is up I just roll out the bed and I'm set. No luxuries, but this trip wasn't about luxuries. Straightening I look around the campsite as I tuck my T-shirt back in my jeans. Two young women walk by, watching me, heads together, giggling, as they discuss the possibilities. They realize there is no invitation when they see the dark scowl my face is wearing. Burned in after 2000 miles on the road. They hurry away.
I reach in my saddlebags and pull out dinner, my third and last can of beef stew. I eat it cold, not caring about the lack of taste, just eating for sustenance. Before dark settles in I climb back on the bike and head into town. I cruise the streets slowly, the Harley rumbling along gently. I stay mostly on the waterfront streets, searching for my goal. Finally I see it. I stop in the street, feet on the ground, half standing up and my eyes scan the Marina, checking the layout. I accelerate and lean into a turn, pulling off the street, and using the convenient size of the bike to make a parking space. Taking my helmet in my hand I walk down to the marina.
Tourists are everywhere, strolling in the afternoon sun, admiring the boats. I too look at the boats, admiring the sleek lines of the sailboats, the luxurious appointments of the big power yachts. But then I turn and look at the grassy knolls overlooking the Marina. Eyes scanning each area, searching. After walking the length of the Marina I still haven't seen what I have traveled 2000 miles for. I turn and head back for the bike, weary and disappointed.
A short ride later and I'm back at the campsite, I sit on the ground with my back against the bike. The setting sun has turned the sky a brilliant color, promising another hot day tomorrow. I reach into the leather saddlebags and bring out a bottle of Quervos, my favorite. Uncapping the bottle I take a long pull and lean back into the bike, reminiscing about another time, another bottle of Quervos. Remembering brings a delightful shiver to my spine. A small smile cracks the scowl that has been etched onto my face. Taking one last pull from the bottle, I cap it and head for bed. Dark comes early down here.
Morning proves to be as brilliant as the setting sun had promised. With no other campers up and about yet I head down to the water in my boxers. Taking my T-shirt with me. Wading into the ocean I splash water over me, rinsing 3 days of sweat and salt off. Splashing doesn't quite do it, so I dive into the surf, reveling in the feel of the seawater on my parched body. Using the T-shirt I give myself a rubdown, head to toe, glancing at the shore before slipping the boxers off and rubbing myself clean. I slip the boxers on and wash the T-shirt as best I can. One more dive and then I head back to my campsite. When I get there I spread the shirt over my bike to dry. Turning I realize the two young women have been standing by their tent watching me. They wave and giggle. I shake my head and duck into my tent, shedding the wet boxers and pulling on my jeans.
Once my shirt is dry I kick the Harley to life and head back into town. Grab a quick bite and head to the Marina. Not as many tourists this time of morning. I walk the length again and still I don't find what I am looking for. I decide to stop and wait at one of the more secluded spots, overlooking the Marina. It's not the most secluded but from it I can see most of the rest. The morning passes uneventfully. The temperature rises as the sun climbs in the sky. Rising I scan the Marina again from my vantage point, still nothing. I head down to the water fountain for a drink. The heat is getting uncomfortable, so after taking a long drink I straighten and pull the T-shirt over my head. My northern skin is very white compared to the tanned bodies down here. But the muscles are still lean and firm. Years of hiking through the bush with heavy packs have kept me in decent shape. The girls roller-blading by take long looks at me, smiling. The boys with them frown and scowl.
I head back for my spot but before I get there I notice that it is now occupied. A beautiful woman is sitting on the grass, legs folded underneath her, a book in one hand. When I get close enough to see her light brown hair with the blonde highlights my breath catches in my throat. I stumble. Suddenly all the macho bravado I had arrived with left me. My breath returns in short gasps, my stomach empty, hollow. Fear coursed through my veins. As her head comes up I turn so I am not headed directly towards her, suddenly unsure of myself. As I walk by I watch her through the sides of my eyes, pleased that she is watching me.
From a distance I turn and look back at her, she has returned to her reading. I sit down and drink in the sight of her. Finally I get to see the woman who has affected me so deep. She is a vision. Quietly reading, pausing occasionally to watch the people walking by below her sanctuary. Once, she looked towards me and I my heart soared as she met my gaze and a small smile danced on her lips before she turned back to her book. Deciding that I had to make a move I put my shirt back on and moved around behind her knoll. I climbed up it until I was behind her, partially screened by a bush. I waited until there was a break in the people below and I moved up behind her. When I was ten feet away she stood up, collected her book, and turned away towards the parking lot. Throwing caution to the wind I moved up behind her and wrapped my arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She opened her mouth to yell so I clamped a hand over it. She started to twist violently, squirming ferociously. Afraid that I might hurt her I placed my mouth near her ear and said,
"Be still, Sweetness."
She froze. Her body like a coiled spring. The words got through, she recognized the endearment, she recognized my voice. Slowly I released her mouth and relaxed my arms, still holding her in case she tried to flee. She turned her face towards me, eyes puzzled, searching my face, watching for danger, searching for safety. I released her, but kept my hands on her arms, looking into her eyes.
"I know you," she said.
