The Outlaw
It was noon on the 4th of July. The sun hung high in the sky as I ran down the winding mountainside. My formerly spastic running had been replaced by something more steady; my breath was deep and even, my stride was fast and long, and the city pavement and skyline had been replaced by a pothole ridden mountain road canopied by hundred year woods. It was beautiful, and something that helped me clear my mind. Two miles down, two miles up. As I rounded the final bend down the mountain I saw the bottom of the ski slope I'd just run down,
"This is going to be a bitch back up," I said to myself, out of breath.
In the distance I saw a local riding a 4-wheeler and though I didn't want to take time out of my workout, I knew I'd have to stop to catch my breath before I embarked on the two mile run up the side of a mountain. And so I stopped and gazed up at the ski slope, overrun by two-foot tall grass, taking in the beauty of the mountain and the bitch I was about to conquer. I heard the 4-wheeler circle me as the rider pulled up to my right and took of his helmet to reveal his sandy brown hair, scruffy beard and bright blue eyes; he was cute, really cute. A bit rough around the edges, grease stained shirt, stonewashed jeans tucked into large work boots, his 4-wheeler had a skull and bones sticker reading "OUTLAW." I was intrigued, at least enough to offer a smile and say,
"Hey! Happy 4th! You out here for a ride?”
“Yeah, though I wish they’d fill in all these damn potholes.” He said with a southern accent.
“Tell me about it, when I was running down here I thought I might fall in and break a leg.”
He looked up at the mountain with a bit of contempt on his face.
“It’s a shame what they’ve done to the place.”
“Yeah, looks like it could use a good lawn mower. Still, it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, I’d love to get my hands back on her, we rented her out to a new company and they don’t keep up with any of the maintenance. You worked here?”
“No, not me.”
“Oh come on, everyone up here’s worked here.”
“No, I was born up here but we moved to New York when I was little, we come up here on weekends sometimes. What did you do here?”
“Oh me? My family owns the slope.”
You don’t say? A cute, 4-wheeler riding outlaw who owns a ski slope? Thank you karmic running gods!
...
“You go to school in New York?”
“I graduated. Trying to be a writer now.”
“Really? How’s that going?”
“Well I’m working on something now, came up here for inspiration and peace of mind. What do you do?”
“Me? I go to school studying renewable energy and I work with solar panels and a local electric company. But it’s a tough sell to people up here, not many people know about it or want to change.”
“That’s why you’ve gotta come to the city where everybody’s converted.”
“Tell me about it!”
Are you kidding me? A Cute, 4-wheeler riding outlaw who owns and ski slope and wants to save the environment? Where’s the catch?
My would be 5 minute break soon turned into a full blown conversation as I dazzled him with my knowledge of energy subsidies in the city, he talked about an eco-blog he writes for. Then he asked me how long my family had their house on the mountain, he smiled when I told him it was built in the 70s.
“Oh, so you’re one of those grandfathered houses. It just gets me when people move in from New York, no offense, and then don’t mow the lawn, it ruins the landscaping.”
“Guilty,” I had to admit my property had, until recently, looked like a 1970s Playboy centerfold.
We joked about rent and space in New York versus the country, growing up on a ski slope, I don't imagine it would be easy for him living in an apartment, heck he said going into town was cramped for him. Yup we were a couple of opposites, thrown together by the illogical laws of fate, but who was I to fight it? He was cute and seemingly interested in my sweaty, unmakeuped self, and then there was the catch.
“But really with the company I’m with, it’s all about saving people money, It’s hard times now, feeding a family of 6 is tough, even a family of 4 like I’ve got.”
And there is was.
“Family of 4. You don’t say?” Please don’t say, please don’t say.
“Yeah, me, my girl, our little one and my dog. Dog costs more than me sometimes.”
“Hm, boy or girl?” Bubble burst.
“Boy, junior. He’s two months.”
“Wow, that’s brand new, that’s exciting.” As soon as I said that, he didn’t look too excited.
“Yeah well, it’s a bit more than I can handle right now, but you know, it happens sometimes.” I guess it sometimes does.
He hoped back on his 4-wheeler and turned the key,
“Well, I’ll let you get on you’re way, it’s hot out here.”
“Yeah, I gotta run up this thing now.” He reared his head looking up at the two miles of mountain above us.
“You could ride up it!” He smiled at me, offering me a seat on the back of his 4-wheeler.
I have to admit, I was tempted, riding up grassy ski slope on the back of a 4-wheeler, holding on to a complete, but very handsome, stranger was almost too good to pass up. And I might have actually taken him up on it if it hadn’t been for three things; his girl, junior, and the lack of an extra helmet. So I smiled and said,
“No thanks, I think I’m going to run it. Gotta prep for all the beer and hotdogs I’ll be having later! It was nice meeting you though.”
“Nice meeting you too, good luck with that writing!”
He put his helmet back on and revved the engine. I turned and took off up the mountain and didn’t look back once.
Halfway up when I felt I was going to die from the incline and the 90 degree heat, I was kicking myself for not taking the ride, but somehow I managed to make it to the top without my outlaw.
Interactions With An Anonymous Stranger Who Will Remain Nameless Pt. V
The Outlaw
It was noon on the 4th of July. The sun hung high in the sky as I ran down the winding mountainside. My formerly spastic running had been replaced by something more steady; my breath was deep and even, my stride was fast and long, and the city pavement and skyline had been replaced by a pothole ridden mountain road canopied by hundred year woods. It was beautiful, and something that helped me clear my mind. Two miles down, two miles up. As I rounded the final bend down the mountain I saw the bottom of the ski slope I'd just run down,
"This is going to be a bitch back up," I said to myself, out of breath.
In the distance I saw a local riding a 4-wheeler and though I didn't want to take time out of my workout, I knew I'd have to stop to catch my breath before I embarked on the two mile run up the side of a mountain. And so I stopped and gazed up at the ski slope, overrun by two-foot tall grass, taking in the beauty of the mountain and the bitch I was about to conquer. I heard the 4-wheeler circle me as the rider pulled up to my right and took of his helmet to reveal his sandy brown hair, scruffy beard and bright blue eyes; he was cute, really cute. A bit rough around the edges, grease stained shirt, stonewashed jeans tucked into large work boots, his 4-wheeler had a skull and bones sticker reading "OUTLAW." I was intrigued, at least enough to offer a smile and say,
"Hey! Happy 4th! You out here for a ride?”
“Yeah, though I wish they’d fill in all these damn potholes.” He said with a southern accent.
“Tell me about it, when I was running down here I thought I might fall in and break a leg.”
He looked up at the mountain with a bit of contempt on his face.
“It’s a shame what they’ve done to the place.”
“Yeah, looks like it could use a good lawn mower. Still, it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, I’d love to get my hands back on her, we rented her out to a new company and they don’t keep up with any of the maintenance. You worked here?”
“No, not me.”
“Oh come on, everyone up here’s worked here.”
“No, I was born up here but we moved to New York when I was little, we come up here on weekends sometimes. What did you do here?”
“Oh me? My family owns the slope.”
You don’t say? A cute, 4-wheeler riding outlaw who owns a ski slope? Thank you karmic running gods!
...
“You go to school in New York?”
“I graduated. Trying to be a writer now.”
“Really? How’s that going?”
“Well I’m working on something now, came up here for inspiration and peace of mind. What do you do?”
“Me? I go to school studying renewable energy and I work with solar panels and a local electric company. But it’s a tough sell to people up here, not many people know about it or want to change.”
“That’s why you’ve gotta come to the city where everybody’s converted.”
“Tell me about it!”
Are you kidding me? A Cute, 4-wheeler riding outlaw who owns and ski slope and wants to save the environment? Where’s the catch?
My would be 5 minute break soon turned into a full blown conversation as I dazzled him with my knowledge of energy subsidies in the city, he talked about an eco-blog he writes for. Then he asked me how long my family had their house on the mountain, he smiled when I told him it was built in the 70s.
“Oh, so you’re one of those grandfathered houses. It just gets me when people move in from New York, no offense, and then don’t mow the lawn, it ruins the landscaping.”
“Guilty,” I had to admit my property had, until recently, looked like a 1970s Playboy centerfold.
We joked about rent and space in New York versus the country, growing up on a ski slope, I don't imagine it would be easy for him living in an apartment, heck he said going into town was cramped for him. Yup we were a couple of opposites, thrown together by the illogical laws of fate, but who was I to fight it? He was cute and seemingly interested in my sweaty, unmakeuped self, and then there was the catch.
“But really with the company I’m with, it’s all about saving people money, It’s hard times now, feeding a family of 6 is tough, even a family of 4 like I’ve got.”
And there is was.
“Family of 4. You don’t say?” Please don’t say, please don’t say.
“Yeah, me, my girl, our little one and my dog. Dog costs more than me sometimes.”
“Hm, boy or girl?” Bubble burst.
“Boy, junior. He’s two months.”
“Wow, that’s brand new, that’s exciting.” As soon as I said that, he didn’t look too excited.
“Yeah well, it’s a bit more than I can handle right now, but you know, it happens sometimes.” I guess it sometimes does.
He hoped back on his 4-wheeler and turned the key,
“Well, I’ll let you get on you’re way, it’s hot out here.”
“Yeah, I gotta run up this thing now.” He reared his head looking up at the two miles of mountain above us.
“You could ride up it!” He smiled at me, offering me a seat on the back of his 4-wheeler.
I have to admit, I was tempted, riding up grassy ski slope on the back of a 4-wheeler, holding on to a complete, but very handsome, stranger was almost too good to pass up. And I might have actually taken him up on it if it hadn’t been for three things; his girl, junior, and the lack of an extra helmet. So I smiled and said,
“No thanks, I think I’m going to run it. Gotta prep for all the beer and hotdogs I’ll be having later! It was nice meeting you though.”
“Nice meeting you too, good luck with that writing!”
He put his helmet back on and revved the engine. I turned and took off up the mountain and didn’t look back once.
Halfway up when I felt I was going to die from the incline and the 90 degree heat, I was kicking myself for not taking the ride, but somehow I managed to make it to the top without my outlaw.