In a field of sage and grass she sat, fat and sassy. We were camped overlooking the Thomson River just east of Kamloops. I drove the five hours, plus a two hour ferry ride, to see what it felt like to be on a motorcycle for more than ninety minutes. It was better than I expected. I was preparing myself for some longer road trips.
I pitched my little tent under a lone pine tree and because I no longer had a dog to watch over me, Sylvie was my sentinel on the ridge.
I had a feeling that I had just ridden through a gate into the rest of my life on a road that was leading me to pure adventure.
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