Desert Rider

Just returned from Mitzpe-Ramon, where I participated in “The Celebration” – a body-arts festival – in which I enjoyed quite a success, mostly for the main similarity between me and the engrgizer bunny – we both never shut up. I enjoyed it immensly – except, maybe, for the part when I was trying to sleep, in a sleeping bag outside, and was woken up once every two minutes by a live goddamned pet rooster – but this is not the point. The point is – I rode Sleeper, my motorbike, the whole way. There and Back Again. Mitzpe-Ramon, I’ll have you know, is about 70 kilometers of road away from Beer-Sheva, which is, in turn, about 130 kilometers from Tel Aviv. However, the latter 130 are rather easy, while the 70 are full of turns and twists, and unexpected crossroads, and more turns, which are really dangerous because the road descends towards the deep desert, and a beautiful but distracting view. And the occasional camel. Sleeper was magnificent. Not a single complaint. Event when the fuel ran out. This happened a kilometer or two before Beer-Sheva, but I, having boldly turned the fuel-switch to “reserve tank”, managed to squeeze them out of the faithful sleeper with, as stated above, no hard feelings. The problem with the way back was that the abovementioned 70 now became ascending. This was no problem for Sleeper, but various cars showed a tendency to slow down and block the one-lane road. Sleeper and I, however, left them far behind. And Sleeper rests, in his usual parking space at home, and I rest too, disturbed only by the fact that every muscle in my ass is crying like that bloody rooster, and I can hardly sit.