Second Day

I wasn't able to post to my blog the last couple of days due to unavailability of internet access. Can you believe it? I even had trouble getting a little cell-phone signal. Anyway, here is my second day.
The weather was great, the air fresh, and the day filled with promise. That's something I look forward to. The first day out, I usually am still thinking about what I might have forgotten to bring, do before I left home, etc. Second day usually begins with a sense of being on the road.
The weather held. The road was good, and the bike ran sweet. Can't always say that happens, but it's good when it does. When I stopped for lunch...another Wendy's salad day... I noticed a guy talking with one of the staff. I overheard her make the comment, "I never thought it would come to that." But I didn't hear what they were talking about. He seemed downcast. I got my lunch and took a table. He sat nearby with another fellow, and the two of them appeared to be going over a list of contacts the second guy was giving to the first.
By the way, maybe I should tell you, I'm a hardcore people watcher. Make that a snoop. Well, there are stories out there. Besides, I'm still a sociologist at heart. Anyway, I people watch.
When I got up to leave, the two guys came outside too. They were on motorcycles as well, and had parked their's next to mine. We spent a few minutes saying hi and exchanging the small talk people do in such situations. They seemed particularly interested in my camping gear. They were astounded I could get a tent, sleeping bag and air matress rolled into such a small bundle. The one who had been talking about his troubles inside told me he wanted to ride to California some day. He said he had arranged for nine days off one time, but his friends had talked him out of trying to take the ride with such a short amount of time. His eyes got wistful, and his voiced softened when he asked me more about my trip. I dug out a map and we went over alternative routes. Then it was time to get on my way. We wished eachother well and shook hands. Friends.
Friends of the road. Something like that.
I felt pretty good that, for a little while, he had been absorbed with biker stuff, and appeared not to be taken up with his troubles, whatever they were. But isn't that also what writing is all about? For a little whilel, our readers can escape from, indulge in or dream of, something they find appealing apart from the day-to-day. Like people who stop and talk to me when I'm on the rode. It all comes down to sharing the ride.