pg 180
As the shadows from the guardrails and waving grasses stretched across the road winding like a snake, the sun just hunkered over the water and set the brown hills aflame with golden light. Kit decided he’d done enough for one day. Two miles after that brought a dirt track that peeled off on the mountain side, rutted and winding. He would climb it and make camp under a cluster of those Dr. Seuss trees. Keeping the grips light in both hands and with the front wheel sliding around and kicking up dust, he crept along in second gear up a dry creek bed etched into the lower track, the bike pulling like a tractor. Rounding a turn he came to a stand of low conifers bent by the wind far enough up the hillside he figured his fire wouldn’t attract attention. Reaching down, he found a rounded stone in the creekbed just flat enough to place under the kickstand. He dismounted and stretched out long, hands overhead, just as the sun tipped into the deep cerulean of the sea, clouds above it awash ...
