Late Night Writing: The Lookout

This was something that in many ways I experienced and with this I added some to this story. I put this together in the middle of the night so it might not make the best of sense of seem all that well written but for the most part is a true story. Sorry for my misspelling and bad grammar but I hope those of you will read this and understand what happened and what I did. I didnt know what else to call it so it aptly got the name: The Lookout.

Enjoy and leave your nasty comments lol

Mezmorized by the white stripes on the road and relentless miles traveled the ghost rider needed a place to rest. After 12 hours on the road and on that seat, it seemed like concrete. Losing bearings and hitting the pavement couldn’t have been any worse than another 2 hours on that seat. Alas a sign and relief. 31 miles to the next town.

The road was open and hard to resist stopping to stretch with only 31 miles to go. It took about 30 minutes to get to town on open throttle and one short “break.” It was pitch black with only a few lights in the distance. The ghost rider stopped in front of a store and locking his helmet. The store seemed closed but the door was slightly open. Grabbing the handle it creaked loudly and the store owner sitting behind the counter reading a book. “Hi there what can I get for ya?” A friendly voice is nice to hear after a long day. “Just a coke sir.” The store owner asks if everything was ok. He must have sensed the riders fatigue. “Yes sir everything is ok. Just a bit tired. Any hotels around here?” The kind old man shaked his head. Not a good sign. “Nope nothing here. Next town about 75 miles away has a nice hotel.” Quietly he walks outside with his coke and turns to thank the store owner.

Sitting outside the store on the steps the ghost rider thinks. Should he pull out his tent and just camp out in a quiet area around town or make the 75 mile trip to the next city? Its 9:48pm and the idea of traveling another 75 miles while already tired doesn’t sound pleasing. He opted to find a suitable grassy area and pull out some blankets and nap for a while when suddenly he noticed an older man standing across the street staring at him. Feeling unsure about this man he hops back on the motorcycle and rides to the other end of town which is only about ¼ mile ahead. Parking his bike and walking to find a new place to setup camp for awhile, he notices a nice clearing and decides that will be his camp for the night. Happy and ready for some sleep he walks back to his bike and notices two women trying to break his hardbags. Unsuccessfully they run off when they hear the lookout whistling to the riders quick return. “Hey what the fuck do you think you are doing?” The women stop running and the man who was their lookout begs the ghost rider to not harm them. He asks them again, “What do you want from me? I wasn’t going to hurt them, just curious.” The man staggers to his knees and the women begin to cry. They say they are weak and hungry and just wanted something to eat. “Why didn’t you just ask?” The man said he has too much pride to ask another man for help. “So you all resort to stealing? That’s far worse than a man asking for a handout.” The man begins to cry and apologize. One woman looks and says, “Its cold out you will freeze in this weather. Why don’t you come camp at our fire?” The tired rider helps up the man off his knees and accepts their offer. Tired and just wanting to sleep he opens his hardbags and pulls out blankets and some cans of tuna and bottles of water. He follows the two women and the staggering old man to their campfire.

Previously that night the ghost rider spend the night in a quiet cozy hotel room with the air conditioning on high and a nice cold shower. He arrived in the city early and decided to get a room and grab a nice steak dinner with potatoes and green beans and a nice glass of cabernet sauvignon. The dinner was decent but the wine exquisite! A nice Napa Valley treat. With a cold shower done he relaxes for a glass of scotch, a cigar and a good book. For he was still in the midst of finishing Marion Meade’s Dorothy Parker: What Fresh Hell is This. For 2 hours he enjoyed reading the last chapters of his book before retiring to a cold slumber. Now 24 hours later he was faced with nature. By far not a horrible thing for the ghost rider. He enjoyed nature and the beauty of the world but now he was facing this night with 3 strangers.

As they make their way to the camp grounds he noticed another figure. A sickly man laying on his side. His leg bandaged up, his hair filthy and his demeanor disturbing. The man spoke softly and greeted the rider. Quietly the rider replies with a “hello.” As he takes a corner next to the fire he offers the four homeless people some tuna and water. Quickly they accept his gesture and begin to eat and drink as if they had not eaten in months. The ghost rider was now faced with not 3 but 4 strangers but that feeling of awkwardness was diminishing. He laid back against the brick wall and thought of his slumber just 24 hours ago. Imagining that this was only one night in a barren alley with complete strangers. What if this was his way of life? Feeling thankful for the smallest of things he begins to feel thankful for being a savior to these people. For 20 minutes there was silence as they ate. All the rider wanted was some water.

The staggering old man begin to speak the story of their lives and how they ended up on the street. For an hour or so the ghost rider listened to their stories. Passed along by each of them. He learned that the two men and women were married couples that somewhow by the fate of whatever god they believed in had brought them together. They were the best of friends and in their own way family to each other now. There was a sense of serenity after hearing their story. They explained that was why they tried to steal from him and feeling guilty after the riders nice offering of food and water apologized again. “No bother. I think I understand now why and im sorry.” The sickly old man says “don’t feel sorry for us sonny boy. We have each other here and we have been this way for years.” The embarrassed rider smiled and said “amen to that.” The rider kindly said that we need to get some sleep if he planned to get back on that road before dawn. He laid down and quickly fell asleep under the stars. It was cold even under the blankets but laying next to that fire was comforting to say the least. As the old woman cared for her sick husband she said, “god bless us all and god thank you for sending us this young angel.”

The next morning it was just before sunrise and the rider was awake before anyone else. He quietly packed his hardbags and entered the store for a few more cans of tuna, bread, water and a few cold cokes. He returned to the warm campfire and for a moment stood there leaning against the wall and thinking of the kind heart these four strangers had towards him. Even after trying to steal from him they offered him a warm place to rest in the company of some decent unfortunate people. As humanitarian as he felt he was he knew he couldn’t do much more than leave some money for the couples. He wrote a short letter to them and placed it inside an envelope along with $200 cash. Surely not enough to get them off the streets but enough to get them food and water and maybe an opportunity. About to ride off he thought, those sheets they have are worn and not very warm. He emptied his hardbags of his blankets and left them for the two couples. Hoping they would appreciate his small gifts he hopped on his motorcycle and once again was down that road. 75 miles to the next city but for this 75 miles he didn’t listen to music or quietly hum the soundtrack to his life and times but silently thought of those people. What would they say when they awoke to find him gone? What would they say to his kind gifts? With a shy smile through the visor of his helmet he felt happy. The sun was rising and becoming too bright and with a quick stop he opened his tank bag and pulled out his sunglasses. Then pulled his visor down and went open throttle. Nothing in sight. Just mountains, a rising sun and a paved road leading to anywhere. This was exactly what the ghost rider lived for. A new day and another journey on a new road…….

Stopping for Break on the Motorcycle in Europe


7 responses to “Late Night Writing: The Lookout

  1. live leads us to many strange ways
    U dont know what happens as next
    I am very glad that this part of your journey ended like this
    they were right for calling U angel
    I understand why U silenced the music
    very joyful read
    thank You

  2. the picture is somehow typical for urban parts of Europe as I know it
    just silence in night,nothing there,empty but somehow straight,warm,clear
    and the only soul alive & seen is the one who is taking the photo
    U feel alone but satisfied
    always special moment for me

  3. always follow your country laws,only upload the the stuff U own for the backup purposes,always support software developers,music artist and go to cinema to watch the movies instead of low quality rips,always download software just for testing or educational purposes,use virtual private networks for maintaining your precious anonymity (on more related stuff —this means U pay some bucks and nobody can see your surfing habits or get your IP adress-it is very worth it,U surf without restrictions)

    summary from


    in fact these are cs4-probably better,U can always find cs3

  4. follow the laws of your country,only upload things you own for backup purposes,always support music artist by buying their CD/mp3,go to cinemas to watch movies instead of bad ripped versions,protect your privacy by using VPN services (hide your IP for few dollars-very cheap indeed-,download software only for educational/purposes-avoid warez because it is full of trojans and viruses-use freeware:

    possible link from PB (choose one following the comments about the quality of the upload and included files needed for activation)

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