When One Door Closes, Another Opens
It took me a moment to realize that the rat-a-tat-tat sounds on my helmet were from sleet. My visor, usually one to stay dry and clear, was fogged up and wet inside and out. My visibility was blurred, and I, even with earplugs, couldn’t miss the thunder – which sounded very angry – that let me know that the weather had gone from bad to worse. Then, a white light almost immediately illuminated the outer edges of my visor. Lightning. Behind me. And close. Drat!
I was riding west out of Canso, N.S., and had climbed up to a windswept plain where the trees were stunted and many had few or no leaves at all. The highway seemed like the highest point. Wait a minute. I was on the highway. I was the highest point. I needed to get off of this road. And fast!
Five minutes back, I had passed what I thought was a general store. It was the only manmade structure I’d seen for a while. I did a quick U-turn – it was easy: there was no one else out in that weather – and went back to find it. I pulled in and saw a sign that said Motor Vehicle Licensing or some such thing. I didn’t really register that the building wasn’t a general store, as I know
