The Rider

The grey clouds rolled low, the wind came fast from the east and the temperature dropped but the rider rode on.

The rain beat down. The spray from his wheels traced a line on his back. Silently speeding through the countryside the rider rode on.

The rider was alone. No map, no route, no destination. Just to be on his bike, the rider rode on.

The rain came harder now but with no appointments to keep the rider rode on.

An abandoned farm house stood sentinel on a hillside. Splashing through rivulets of rainwater, with the joy being in the journey, the rider rode on.


Mile 10,379 - an abandoned farmhouse