path . Without hesitation I run back to the bike , and ride up the curb , past the picnic tables between the hedge and down a track that weaves between the giant turbines . The track ends and looks out over fields and a village below in the valley . I kill the ignition and am engulfed by darkness and silence . This is perfect . I roll out my sleeping bag and lay on top of it . A rabbit comes by , either blind , brave , or maybe just friendly . The blades turn , the wheat bends and I look down at the quiet sparkling village . The nomad in me loves this .
I get some emergency sleep and no deluxe extras . When it ’ s time for a wee I touch something that isn ’ t me , a slug is inside my waistband . It wakes me more than I ’ d like . Still , it was a free night , a place to pass the dark hours . There is light in the sky now , but not enough to write my diary by . That will have to wait , I ' ve got a new day to ride into .
I roll up a slightly damp sleeping bag and put on a cool sweatshirt . I got away with a wild camp . I make my getaway into a misty morning with dewy mirrors and a screen of moisture . Back to the parking area , I contemplate a toilet stop but just ride out . No dinner to speak of last night , no drink this morning ; I just ride and slowly the day lightens up . I was aware last night that the sound of traffic never stopped . As I join the permanent flow it remains constant but light . It was a 3 a . m . start according to my body clock – that ’ s about eight hours sleep in the last forty-eight . After a few hours , my delusional thoughts alert me to the need for more sleep . This is the only accurate deduction I can make from my reflections of misperception . I pull over and doze with my head on the tank bag . It ’ s not enough so I lay on a bench and an hour passes . Air escaping from a truck ’ s suspension wakes me , it ’ s not my tyres , wheels of confusion , making me crazy .
I don ’ t need to make this an endurance ride but I ' m enjoying this aspect of it . It ’ s not my usual style at all , and it ’ s exciting to push the limits of my stamina . Knowing there is no prize to win or deadline to make , I ' m just playing at being hardcore . I can stop whenever I want . There hasn ’ t been much of anything across the landscape and when a service area and the double yellow curves of an internationally recognised restaurant appear , it seems like an opportunity to fill the tank and empty the discomfort . Full tank , full tummy , empty bladder , fully charged . The momentary delight of no reason to want . Everything is at desirable levels .
As soon as I get going everyone else stops . The traffic is backed up , and the Saturday morning pleasure drivers are wandering around the autobahn stretching their legs . They are without consideration or awareness of a moving vehicle . In
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