Oh my gosh. True story. I’m still laughing.
On Labor Day I needed to clear my head, so I took Delilah for a little ride up the canyon for some me, with all the pretty trees, time.
Anyway, I found a pullout about half way up. An older green sedan was parked there, but no one was in sight.
I brought with me a fresh sandwich and an icy cold beverage, and I decided it was as good a place as any to park, down some grub, and list down some thoughts for a blog post I’m working on.
After parking the bike and plopping myself against a small Aspen a little ways off the road, I pulled out the sandwich. No longer so fresh. I pulled out the beverage. No longer so cold. As a biker you get used to that, I guess. Black leather saddlebags don’t make the best lunch coolers.
Between bites I jotted down notes into my phone. I definitely get some of my best thinking done away from the hustle and bustle of life in the city and suburbs. And this time it was going well. Ideas were flowing. Things were humming. And then I heard it…
From the trees to my far left.
At least I thought I heard giggles. They were so quiet and quick that I wasn’t completely sure.
I looked toward the source and could see nothing.
Was someone there? After a minute or so of watching and waiting, I heard nothing new, so I brushed it off as hearing things and went back to what I was doing.
Then, a tiny crack of a branch, followed by another short giggle, followed by an ever-so-quiet shhh.
Someone was definitely there, off in the bushes or trees somewhere nearby, giggling about something. Afraid, obviously, to let their presence be fully known.
Now my curiosity was piqued. What were they doing there? Why were they hiding? And how awkward could I make things for them?
Were there a couple people back there doing naked naughty things?
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