There was no going back. I was afraid to look back. I gave some thought to removing the small rearview mirrors but I was glad I left them on the handlebars. They helped me remember what I left behind without making me turn around. I didn’t need them last night. The fire’s sound was hypnotic and it’s dance was provocative. I still felt the flames licking at my back. It was lethal and I barely escaped.
It was dark ahead. My mount’s small beam of light was narrow and weak under the heavy blanket of the night. I pulled off to the opposite side of the road to reflect and warn oncoming traffic of the danger.
Many headed straight for the firestorm as if they did not see it. I flashed my headlamp, waved my arms, and yelled warnings. They must have thought I was crazy. Only a few paid attention and turned around. Why can’t they feel, hear, see, smell, and taste what I do? I asked myself. Had they no sense? One determined rider almost ran me down in his haste toward the waste!
I remounted and looked into the darkness. I looked for hope but I saw only darkness. The headlamp illuminated only moments of the road’s surface as I moved forward. It was enough. I was thankful for the light. I was thankful it shined just far enough to illuminate the moments ahead without shining too deep or wide. Too much information could have been overwhelming. Who knows what lurked in the darkness? It was easy to focus while I rode forward last night.
The rearview mirrors reminded me there was no going back.