Ryan stood on his pedals, pumped up the hill taking in great gulps of air. He planned to stop at the top and let the breeze evaporate the sweat off of him, but the siren song of a half mile coast to the bottom lured him. The cool breeze pulled sweat from his skin and clothing as he gathered speed on the long downhill. He applied the rear break when the speed threatened to creep above twenty miles per hour. He didn't need a tumble off his bike onto his pieced together hip.
At the bottom of the hill, he rattled across a rickety bridge and lost momentum to the next hill rising before him. This was the west side of Michigan; he humped up and then sped down one rolling hill after another. Breezes off Lake Michigan cooled his sun warmed skin, and trees cast cool shadows across the bike path as it wound through woods and dunes.
His legs pumped strong as he drew deep breaths into his lungs. Sometimes the trail and the exertion made him forget the last few years. Not so far today, but he had a long way to go.
He passed a few day trippers, and even an entire families out for exercise, but there was never the crush of bikers that he encountered on Cape Cod or through Hocking Hills in Ohio on warm summer weekends.
At the crest of a long downhill, he rushed headlong into the valley where he encountered a woman with a flat front tire pushing her bike up the hill alongside the path. His first thought was to coast past her, making her a memory by the time he crested the next hill crest, but that wasn't what you did when a fellow biker needed help. You stopped.
"Do you need that tire repaired?" he asked the woman as he hopped off the bike and walked it back to her.
Her amazing figure would have stopped traffic on a freeway. High firm breasts tapered to a narrow waist and lush hips. A thick braid of chestnut hair trailed down her back. When she took off her sunglasses she revealed a narrow face with eyes set close together. It was the kind of face that looked attractive when she smiled, and a little cruel when she didn't. In all, she looked about as attractive as a woman could wearing a bicycle helmet and sweaty cycling gear.
Relief then suspicion crossed her face.
Ryan handed his phone and his driver's license to her. "Use my phone to call a girlfriend. Give her my name, and my driver license number. Tell her to write it down. That way if you disappear, the police will have my name, and my phone will have your call on it."
"What if this is a fake ID?" the woman asked.
Ryan grinned at her. "Would a rapist wear this lovely helmet, or wear a padded singlet or smell like a grungy cyclist in need of a shower after three days on the trail?"
The woman relaxed and waved her hand in front of her face. "You look and smell like a cyclist."
She made her call then handed the phone and his license back to him.
"I picked up a tack some genius left on the trail."
Ryan flipped the bike over on its handlebars and inspected the tire. "There it is."
He walked to his bike and unsnapped a tire repair kit that hung from the back of his bicycle seat.
"You wouldn't happen to have something to drink, would you?" she licked her lips.
Ryan handed her his water bottle which she drained. "You know my name, what's yours?"
"Bree, Bree Bonner."
"How did you get this far out into the boonies without a tire repair kit or a water bottle, Bree?"
"Sometimes things don't go the way you want them to," she shrugged, her lower lip coming out into a momentary pout.
Ryan didn't push for details instead he pulled the inner tube from the tire, and pumped it up until he located the leak. Within ten minutes, he had her tire repaired and her bike stood ready for the road.
"All set," he snapped his repair kit back into place on the seat and climbed onto his bike.
"Could I ride along with you for a while? I want to make sure the patch holds."
Ryan nodded. "Sure."
He understood. The woman didn't trust him, but facing the trail alone was worse.
Within minutes, her new mobility put her at ease. An easy smile graced her face.
"What's the next town?" she asked squinting at the rolling green forest ahead from a hill crest.
"We'll make Whitehall by lunch. There's a nice restaurant on the bay where we can relax and have an air conditioned lunch."
"Is there a motel?"
Ryan shrugged. "There has to be, but I don't know for sure, I usually roll through. Are you thinking of jumping off the trail there?"
She nodded. "My boyfriend and I had an argument last night. When I woke up this morning, the bastard had packed up everything and rode off. I had the clothes on my back and my sleeping bag. He probably headed south to his car outside of South Haven. My car is parked up in Wilderness State Park at the tip of the mitt. I was trying to figure out how to get to my car when I got the flat." After a pause, she added. "Do you know if Whitehall has a bus station?"
Ryan shook his head. "You might have to bike to Muskegon for something like that. Whitehall is pretty small. Wilderness State Park is only three days away by bike. I'm headed up to the straits and then down the Lake Huron side. I'll ride right past it."
He didn't know why he said it. He'd be at Lisa's camp by the end of day tomorrow, but he did like the company, and she was pleasant to look at. She would have to ask to ride along though, he would not push it.
Bree rode in silence for a long while. When the shadows had retreated under the onslaught of the sun at its zenith, they rolled into the lovely town of Whitehall at the time when they needed a break, and straight to the restaurant Ryan had mentioned. After chaining their bikes to a lamp post, they stepped into the air conditioned luxury of the restaurant.
The waitress sized them up. "You both want a pitcher of cola," she pointed at Ryan, "you look like a pepperoni pizza guy, but you'll settle for a Reuben when," she pointed at Bree, "you tell him you don't like pepperoni."
"A small chef salad sounds good to me," Bree smiled folding up her menu.
"Then why don't you bring me a perch sandwich," Ryan told the waitress.
When she had gone, Bree smiled at Ryan. "I'd like to ride with you, but I'm going to need a few things before we leave town. Can we stop at clothing store and a drugstore?"
"No problem," Ryan smiled at her. "Was it my witty conversation that swayed you?"
She grinned at him. "That plus me trying to figure out how I would get my bike on the bus. I can also tell that you're a nice guy."
Ryan thought for a minute. "I've got pretty much everything we'll need. I have plenty of coffee, a camp stove, a tent if it rains, a sleeping bag and a blanket. You shouldn't have to buy a sleeping bag. It won't get that cold over the next couple of days. I've got enough freeze dried food for both of us, but I wouldn't complain if you picked up a few fruits and vegetables along the way. Freeze dried food tastes like freeze dried food. You know, that 'should rice have an aftertaste like plastic' taste."
"What kind of fruit do you like?"
"Apples, cherries, watermelon, the usual stuff."
"You got it. I've still got my credit card."
"I've got hotel reservations for this evening in Manistee. It's a good place to grab a shower and to feel human for a few hours. I wash clothes, there's a laundromat next door. You're welcome to share the room with me, or rent your own, or even sleep outside in my tent."
