Journey in Darkness

Even those of us who like living in small towns occasionally feel the need to visit the city—to shop, to see a medical specialist, or just because we’re restless Americans who have to go someplace now and then. The nearest place you could really call a city lies a full hour away. I go there several times a year. I’ll browse the stores, maybe walk in the park, take in any special events that might be going on, eat at a restaurant, and then come home.

Normally I make these visits on the weekend. On this particular occasion the weather forecast pretty much guaranteed rough weather. So I moved the trip up a couple of days. Since I planned to get some items for work—I do that often as not whenever I travel--I decided to leave early on a work day afternoon.

The weather was an issue because I planned to make this my first trip to the city on my motorcycle. Even in good weather it would pose a bit of a challenge. I had ridden farther than that before, but had never before ridden in urban traffic. I was familiar with the part of the city I planned to visit, and figured I had enough experience at this point to handle the traffic there.

The trip there proved uneventful. I left town on a narrow but reasonably good two-lane highway. Some miles from town it intersected a broader two-lane road that is in the process of conversion into a four-lane highway. The stretch I had to ride has been a construction zone for well over a year now. It probably will be for at least that much longer. That meant coping with heavy machinery on the road, dust, and flagmen. For several miles I ran over what amounted to speed bumps every couple hundred yards.

Past the road work I rode through a large town that I had visited before by motorcycle. It posed little difficulty now. The relatively heavy traffic did keep me very alert. At the far end of town I refueled my bike. Not many people nowadays can fill up for only five bucks.

From here to the city I traveled stretches of 65-mile-per-hour highway. My bike isn’t really built for those kinds of speeds. It can handle them for a while as long as the hills are not too steep. The rugged pavement in places made it a bumpy ride. I was glad when I reached the outskirts of town and got to slow down.

I made my way through the traffic to the big bookstore, my favorite destination. I decided since I would be there for a while it would be best if I took my leather riding jacket inside. Once inside I found that the building’s air conditioning made me just as glad I had a jacket with me.

I had timed it so that I would spend the worst of the evening rush in the bookstore. After about an hour of browsing I made several purchases—mostly work-related—and headed to the big office supply place down the road to get a couple more items for work. The guy who waited on me at the office supply store was shocked when he saw me buying floppy diskettes. He had not even known that the store still carried them.

On the way back to the highway I stopped at a Chinese restaurant and had a good meal there. Then, right at seven p.m., I pulled onto the main highway headed for home. And then the fun began!

At the first of several stop lights I had to pass before leaving town I heard a loud honk. Looking around I saw that an eighteen-wheeler had pulled up directly behind me. Its grill loomed above me like a giant screen door. The thought of negotiating several more lights with this vehicle on my tail made me a bit nervous.

Fortunately I had better acceleration between lights than the big rig and was soon well ahead. By the time I got out of town there wasn’t much of anybody behind me. I decided to pull into the left lane and cruise there, since it was likely to give an easier ride. Cruising in the left lane, passing and being passed by vehicles to my right, was a new experience for me on a motorcycle and took some getting used to.

I still had plenty of sun when I passed through the big town. It looked like I would get home before it got completely dark. That was certainly the plan. Night riding is inherently riskier than riding in broad daylight. A smart rider will learn to ride at night but avoid doing so too often.

The construction zone was easier to ride through now that the workers and most of the traffic were gone. Unfortunately the churned-up nature of a construction zone makes it easy to miss a poorly-marked left turn. And I missed mine.

Realizing I had done so, I doubled back when I got the chance, made my turn, and kept going, hoping that I had not lost too much daylight. As I hung some rather sharp curves I thought to myself that I did not recall those turns being so sharp before. Then I began to get the sinking feeling that I might have turned down the wrong road. A little farther on I came to a railroad crossing that I knew was not supposed to be there. That cinched it! I turned and headed back, knowing that I had just wasted even more daylight. The sun was setting fast.

The next thing I knew I had overshot my turn again. It was getting so dark I could not see to be sure of where I had to turn. At this point I decided to forget about the turn and just keep heading along the highway I was on. I knew that it would eventually come to a much better-marked intersection that would take me straight into town. I’d get home for sure this way, but it would take longer.

By now the sun had disappeared and the sky was darkening fast. The air grew a little too cool for comfort. Nocturnal bugs, hundreds of them, began pelting my windshield, face mask, and hands. Now and then an impact with a hard-shelled beetle stung like a hit from a chunk of gravel.

By now I had gotten beyond the construction zone. There was little traffic on this stretch. What worried me was deer. Rural Arkansas teems with deer. They’re a major nighttime road hazard. The collision repair shop where Dad works gets deer-smashed cars all the time. A deer smash on a motorcycle could easily be catastrophic. At least this section of road had broader shoulders than the one on which I had originally planned to ride. That gave me more chance to spot any four-footed hazards.

I didn’t feel confident of riding at full highway speed in the dark through a countryside of deer-haunted woods and fields. I slowed to about 45 miles per hour. At that speed my trip the long way around took even longer. There were few familiar landmarks along this stretch. Each one took longer to pass than I would have liked.

Rather amazingly nobody overtook me the whole time I was on the road. I did meet a number of vehicles. Evidently I was the only person going my way at this time of evening. It felt good to have my lane all to myself. If only the deer would stay out of it!

Finally I reached my well-marked turnoff. From here I had a straight shot eight miles into town. But I was—quite literally—not out of the woods yet. So I kept my eyes out, making the best speed I dared. It was about as long an eight miles as I’ve ever ridden.

Then I saw the lights of town, and smelled the familiar stink from the mill. I had to get down on the brakes when somebody pulled out in front of me from the Wal-Mart parking lot without apparently seeing me coming. Otherwise I had smooth sailing.

At the house I parked my bike, took the items I’d bought out of the bike’s panniers, and headed through the house into the back yard to reassure my barking dog that I was not an intruder. Then I checked my watch. My hour-or-so trip had taken an hour and a half, the last third of it in darkness.

I took a deep breath and said a little prayer of thanks for a safe journey. Really I had never had the sense that I was in great danger. The odds of a deer smash on any given trip are not THAT high. But it was an experience I’d just as soon not repeat any time soon.