By the time Randy reached Cali and the hotel the rain had stopped. He and his bike were soaking wet and covered in mud. He pulled up outside the hotel, put the bike on its stand, laid his dripping helmet on the seat and came inside, taking his shirt off as he walked.
Paul had been watching out the hotel window so as soon as he saw Randy he hollered so we were downstairs as he was getting off the bike.
Tio came running out, “No, no don’t leave the motorcycle outside. It will be stolen. Bring it inside.”
“It’s all muddy and wet,” Randy answered.
“Bring it in right now, hurry.”
So out Randy went and wheeled the bike up the steps and onto the clean, beautiful wood lobby floors. Mud and water dripping every where.
“Is everything okay? Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“Everyone should be getting here pretty soon. I think Klaus was going to continue on now that it stopped raining.” Randy told me. “I’m going up to get dry.”
“Dad’s coming.” shouted John, “and the van is right behind him. They’re parking around the corner.”
Paul and Gil went running out the door. I followed rounding the corner just as Bill was getting out of the motorhome.
“We’ll stay here again tonight.” he said to me. “We still need to put a lot of things away and we all need a good nights sleep. Tomorrow we can get an early start,” he told me as he locked the door.
Paul and John were over by the van talking to Robert, Mark, and Paul Perez. They still had some stuff to rearrange in the van and probably would spend the night in Cali too.
Bill and I went inside just as Randy was coming down the stairs. He had on a dry blue denim shirt and jeans and was on his way out to help Robert. As we passed him I could hear his boots squishing. Bill asked about the Honda being inside and I told him what Tio had said. He just shook his head and told John Mc to tell Randy to get some rags and try to clean up some of the mess on the floor and the bike.
Bill showered and cleaned up and was about to start back outside when we heard a scream from our Paul. A piercing terrified scream. I ran to the window as Bill sprinted down the stairs.
John (our son) came skidding in the front door of the hotel. “Dad! Dad!” He yelled, “Paul was watching Robert’s van while he came inside and some guy came up and grabbed Paul. Then another guy snatched a TV and a suitcase out of the back of the van.”
By now we were all pouring out of the hotel and around the corner. John Mc was trying to calm Paul down. He was still crying, not because he was frightened - but because someone had stolen the TV while he was watching the van.
“Randy - Randy - he took a machete and is chasing after the guy who stole the stuff,” stuttered John Mc as he pointed down the street.
Bill, Robert, Mark and Paul (the older one) took off down the street. Just as they reached the corner Randy came around it with the TV and machete in his arms. “The suitcase is back there a ways.” He said.
Thank God he was okay flew through my mind. “Are you out of your mind?” came out of my mouth. “What the hell did you think you were going to do with that damn knife? You have a death wish? You want to be in a Colombian jail?” Then it dawned on me that he had the TV with him. “How’d you get that back, are you crazy?” I stole a glance at the knife hoping I wouldn’t see any blood or worse. All nice motherly thoughts and words of comfort.
“When he looked back and saw me chasing him he just put the stuff on the ground, I guess it was heavy and I was catching up to him.” Randy stated matter of factly. (17 is such a cool age.)”I don’t know what I would have done if he had stopped, I figured someone else would be coming behind me.”
When we got back to the motorhome the van was put together and they had decided to leave Cali right away.
“That’s it,” said Bill, “we’re getting out of here now too. Randy you’ll just have to ride the bike. When we stop latter we’ll finish putting stuff back together. I want to get on the road and away from here. “
We all packed up and got ready to leave. Including Maynard who had got some much needed sleep.
Once we were on the road I smelled something strange. As we drove slowly through town I started poking around. It didn’t take long to locate the odor. It was coming from the Coleman cooler. Everything in it was black, green, hairy and juicy. Things might have kept for the original three day trip, but no way for over 10 days. What a mess, later we just threw the cooler and everything in it away. We’d have to go grocery shopping when we got a chance.
It was getting dark as we left the outskirts of Cali and we didn’t have a destination in mind. We were just heading towards the Ecuador border.
So now, once again, we were breaking our rule of “NO NIGHT DRIVING.”
It had started to sprinkle again so we stopped and dug out the poncho for Randy. Hopefully he would stay a little dry. At least it was warm out.
It got darker and wetter as the night progressed. Some patches of the road are enveloped in dense fog.
There were no stars and not a sliver of moonlight. Inside the motorhome the only light was the eerie green glow from the instrument panel. I glanced at the clock - it was 12:20 a.m. We'd been traveling since early evening.
Randy was riding in front of us. As our headlights pick him up he looked like a phantom. Everything about him was black: bike, gloves, helmet and poncho. The poncho flared out behind him adding to the illusion. He was riding “point” to warn us of rockslides or chunks missing out of the pavement.
He slowed down. We had to keep the momentum to make it up the next grade so we went around him. Concerned, I moved to the back and climbed on the bed so I could watch out the back window. His headlight looked unsteady, weaving from side to side. It got smaller as he dropped further and further back. The headlight tilted as the bike stopped. “Bill,” I called out. “Something’s wrong with Randy.”
“What? What’s the matter?” his concentration was on his driving.
“We need to stop. Now! Randy stopped back there.”
I stayed on the bed, with my cupped hands pressed to the window to the window and watched as Randy slid off his bike and walked stiff-legged towards the camper.
The light from the bike illuminated him. He moved in slow motion.
I rushed to the front; pushed the door open just as he reached it. His gloves were in his hand and he was pulling his helmet off as he came through the door. Enormous glazed blue eyes looked straight at me but didn't appear to be seeing anything. He staggered past me bumped the table - then bounced off the stove. Gloves and helmet slipped to the floor. He collapsed next to them and was sound asleep before his head hit the floor. Without a word John Mc reached for his glasses, got out of his sleeping bag and picked up the helmet and gloves. We rolled Randy over and pulled off the poncho. John fit it over his head and was putting the helmet on as he walked out the door. He jogged back to the bike and was swallowed by the darkness as he mounted it. When he came along side, he raised his thumb in salute and pulled ahead.
Bill turned and watched this from the driver’s seat, not saying a word. He looked exhausted. He’d been on the move since the camper came off the boat that morning. And driving most of that time. I wish I dared to drive it.
Twisting his seat back to the front he put the motorhome into gear the engine stuttered and coughed. He muttered “Oh, Oh.” Then we slowly started moving again.
“What’s the matter?” “What’s OH! OH?” I wanted to know.
“Nothings the matter, it felt like it wanted to stall. I told you when we left Cali there’s something wrong with the wiring to the trailer lights. Could be a short draining the battery or something. I’ll check it tomorrow. Fix me some coffee then get some sleep.”
I poured both of us coffee from the thermos - handed him his. I was wide-awake. I take a cup just so I’d have something to occupy me. I knew I couldn't go to sleep, how could he drive without my input? That road needed two pairs of eyes. There’s no way he could stop fast if I don’t slam my feet on the floor too.
I watched the play of red and black shadows as our running lights dance through the trees on the side of the road. The road was very narrow with mountains straight up on one side and forests or ravines on the other. There hadn’t been any traffic for hours.
The taillight of the bike would appear and disappear as John went around corners. He had to be tired too, but at least he got a little sleep.
Paul had been watching out the hotel window so as soon as he saw Randy he hollered so we were downstairs as he was getting off the bike.
Tio came running out, “No, no don’t leave the motorcycle outside. It will be stolen. Bring it inside.”
“It’s all muddy and wet,” Randy answered.
“Bring it in right now, hurry.”
So out Randy went and wheeled the bike up the steps and onto the clean, beautiful wood lobby floors. Mud and water dripping every where.
“Is everything okay? Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“Everyone should be getting here pretty soon. I think Klaus was going to continue on now that it stopped raining.” Randy told me. “I’m going up to get dry.”
“Dad’s coming.” shouted John, “and the van is right behind him. They’re parking around the corner.”
Paul and Gil went running out the door. I followed rounding the corner just as Bill was getting out of the motorhome.
“We’ll stay here again tonight.” he said to me. “We still need to put a lot of things away and we all need a good nights sleep. Tomorrow we can get an early start,” he told me as he locked the door.
Paul and John were over by the van talking to Robert, Mark, and Paul Perez. They still had some stuff to rearrange in the van and probably would spend the night in Cali too.
Bill and I went inside just as Randy was coming down the stairs. He had on a dry blue denim shirt and jeans and was on his way out to help Robert. As we passed him I could hear his boots squishing. Bill asked about the Honda being inside and I told him what Tio had said. He just shook his head and told John Mc to tell Randy to get some rags and try to clean up some of the mess on the floor and the bike.
Bill showered and cleaned up and was about to start back outside when we heard a scream from our Paul. A piercing terrified scream. I ran to the window as Bill sprinted down the stairs.
John (our son) came skidding in the front door of the hotel. “Dad! Dad!” He yelled, “Paul was watching Robert’s van while he came inside and some guy came up and grabbed Paul. Then another guy snatched a TV and a suitcase out of the back of the van.”
By now we were all pouring out of the hotel and around the corner. John Mc was trying to calm Paul down. He was still crying, not because he was frightened - but because someone had stolen the TV while he was watching the van.
“Randy - Randy - he took a machete and is chasing after the guy who stole the stuff,” stuttered John Mc as he pointed down the street.
Bill, Robert, Mark and Paul (the older one) took off down the street. Just as they reached the corner Randy came around it with the TV and machete in his arms. “The suitcase is back there a ways.” He said.
Thank God he was okay flew through my mind. “Are you out of your mind?” came out of my mouth. “What the hell did you think you were going to do with that damn knife? You have a death wish? You want to be in a Colombian jail?” Then it dawned on me that he had the TV with him. “How’d you get that back, are you crazy?” I stole a glance at the knife hoping I wouldn’t see any blood or worse. All nice motherly thoughts and words of comfort.
“When he looked back and saw me chasing him he just put the stuff on the ground, I guess it was heavy and I was catching up to him.” Randy stated matter of factly. (17 is such a cool age.)”I don’t know what I would have done if he had stopped, I figured someone else would be coming behind me.”
When we got back to the motorhome the van was put together and they had decided to leave Cali right away.
“That’s it,” said Bill, “we’re getting out of here now too. Randy you’ll just have to ride the bike. When we stop latter we’ll finish putting stuff back together. I want to get on the road and away from here. “
We all packed up and got ready to leave. Including Maynard who had got some much needed sleep.
Once we were on the road I smelled something strange. As we drove slowly through town I started poking around. It didn’t take long to locate the odor. It was coming from the Coleman cooler. Everything in it was black, green, hairy and juicy. Things might have kept for the original three day trip, but no way for over 10 days. What a mess, later we just threw the cooler and everything in it away. We’d have to go grocery shopping when we got a chance.
It was getting dark as we left the outskirts of Cali and we didn’t have a destination in mind. We were just heading towards the Ecuador border.
So now, once again, we were breaking our rule of “NO NIGHT DRIVING.”
It had started to sprinkle again so we stopped and dug out the poncho for Randy. Hopefully he would stay a little dry. At least it was warm out.
It got darker and wetter as the night progressed. Some patches of the road are enveloped in dense fog.
There were no stars and not a sliver of moonlight. Inside the motorhome the only light was the eerie green glow from the instrument panel. I glanced at the clock - it was 12:20 a.m. We'd been traveling since early evening.
Randy was riding in front of us. As our headlights pick him up he looked like a phantom. Everything about him was black: bike, gloves, helmet and poncho. The poncho flared out behind him adding to the illusion. He was riding “point” to warn us of rockslides or chunks missing out of the pavement.
He slowed down. We had to keep the momentum to make it up the next grade so we went around him. Concerned, I moved to the back and climbed on the bed so I could watch out the back window. His headlight looked unsteady, weaving from side to side. It got smaller as he dropped further and further back. The headlight tilted as the bike stopped. “Bill,” I called out. “Something’s wrong with Randy.”
“What? What’s the matter?” his concentration was on his driving.
“We need to stop. Now! Randy stopped back there.”
I stayed on the bed, with my cupped hands pressed to the window to the window and watched as Randy slid off his bike and walked stiff-legged towards the camper.
The light from the bike illuminated him. He moved in slow motion.
I rushed to the front; pushed the door open just as he reached it. His gloves were in his hand and he was pulling his helmet off as he came through the door. Enormous glazed blue eyes looked straight at me but didn't appear to be seeing anything. He staggered past me bumped the table - then bounced off the stove. Gloves and helmet slipped to the floor. He collapsed next to them and was sound asleep before his head hit the floor. Without a word John Mc reached for his glasses, got out of his sleeping bag and picked up the helmet and gloves. We rolled Randy over and pulled off the poncho. John fit it over his head and was putting the helmet on as he walked out the door. He jogged back to the bike and was swallowed by the darkness as he mounted it. When he came along side, he raised his thumb in salute and pulled ahead.
Bill turned and watched this from the driver’s seat, not saying a word. He looked exhausted. He’d been on the move since the camper came off the boat that morning. And driving most of that time. I wish I dared to drive it.
Twisting his seat back to the front he put the motorhome into gear the engine stuttered and coughed. He muttered “Oh, Oh.” Then we slowly started moving again.
“What’s the matter?” “What’s OH! OH?” I wanted to know.
“Nothings the matter, it felt like it wanted to stall. I told you when we left Cali there’s something wrong with the wiring to the trailer lights. Could be a short draining the battery or something. I’ll check it tomorrow. Fix me some coffee then get some sleep.”
I poured both of us coffee from the thermos - handed him his. I was wide-awake. I take a cup just so I’d have something to occupy me. I knew I couldn't go to sleep, how could he drive without my input? That road needed two pairs of eyes. There’s no way he could stop fast if I don’t slam my feet on the floor too.
I watched the play of red and black shadows as our running lights dance through the trees on the side of the road. The road was very narrow with mountains straight up on one side and forests or ravines on the other. There hadn’t been any traffic for hours.
The taillight of the bike would appear and disappear as John went around corners. He had to be tired too, but at least he got a little sleep.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |