Still He Rides

Jesse rides through the night under the Main Street light ridin’ slow. This is his escape. It is how he clears his mind. He needed to get away, to get out, to forget. To figure things out.
 
He rides through town where people are, where lights are flashing, where life is happening. It helps. Seeing people, other cars, lights, ball fields lit up after the games are over. The line of tail lights in his mirrors all heading to their nice, comfortable homes, where they too can try to pretend like everything is OK at home. He can’t do that anymore. Too many memories in that house.
 
So he rides through town, looking at the people laughing and drinking their margaritas out on the patio of the Mexican restaurant. He just rides on, expressionless, emotionless. He sees a couple guys out on the basketball courts in the park, playing one on one. Sweat drenching their shirts on this hot and humid night. He just rides on.
 
He rides across the bridge over the river that runs through town, sees a couple walking hand in hand on the sidewalk. The man waves to him, but he just stares forward. He rides past the police station, never had a problem with them, past the firehouse and the post office. He rides out on Elm Street past the houses of suburbia, SUV’s and pick-up trucks in almost every driveway. He rides on, looking for something, but not sure what.
 
He gets to the railroad tracks and stops, after this it is open country for miles and miles, no one would be out there, nothing but open land. He looks over to his right at the old gas station that still offers full service, sees the old man that owns the place sitting outside drinking a soda. The old man just nods and Jesse nods back. No need to have their conversation again, he understands, he might be the only one that does.
 
“Son, how come you just ride up to these tracks and just stops?” the old man had asked. “If I had that bike of yours, I’d be on the other side of the tracks just riding out in the open, nothin’ to bother you or get in your way. But you stop here every night, look across the tracks, then just turn around and go back the other way….why’s that?”
 
Jesse looks at the old man and just says, “Not sure I’d come back. . . . .”
 
 
 

About joatmon14

Man in recovery from everything, looking for a little help, inspiration and direction.... Have spent the last 25 years working in big business, getting lost in all the chaos, not feeling like what I did mattered. By no means am I a professional writer nor do I even think I am that good, but it is something I love to do. Getting lost in a world of words, even for just a little while is why I started my blogs. In reality, at the age of 49 I am trying to find my voice. To find my passion. Maybe starting a little late, but better late than never. I write for me, I enjoy reading other's thoughts very much as well and look forward to the day that I can hold an extended, intelligent, meaningful conversation with YOU View all posts by joatmon14

2 responses to “Still He Rides

  • mle471earthlinknet

    I know how he feels. I’ve felt like that numerous times before. Life at home is not like it used to be, full of love and life. I used to drive to Michigan border and turn around at mile marker 23 because I knew if I didn’t, I wouldn’t want to go back home. After my grandmother died last year and I stayed out there six weeks after she passed, I didn’t want to come back home because life was not like it used to be and I knew it. It is just too easy to escape and get lost out there, but eventually everyone has to come back home. My friend told me once if there was something in your life that makes you unhappy, then change it. I am finally learning how to change it.

    Liked by 1 person

  • serins

    This is very well written. 🙂

    Like

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