This morning, I was rushing to get to work.

This afternoon, I took the long way home, past the Forked Lightening Ranch in Pecos.

In Glorieta Pass, on the highway, I was stalked by a fat man in a baby blue Cadillac, circa 1970. He pulled up alongside of me and Odin. If I sped up, he did too. If I slowed down, so did he. It was extremely annoying.

I think the fact that I am covered from head to toe in armor, gloves, a helmet, albeit with my long (and upon closer inspection, graying) hair billowing out beneath, leaves him some room for old reprobates like this fellow to fantasize about the fact that there must be some nineteen year old hottie beneath all of that leather. I'm not as svelte as I used to be, however, I'm no fattie. Boy, would he have been surprised when I removed my helmet, to find a middle aged woman with abundant laugh lines and worry lines and every other kind of life line you can think of around her eyes and mouth beneath all of that.

Talk about disappointment.

Finally, I decided to acknowledge my admirer's presence. Generally, my feeling is that if you ignore a pest like this, he will go away, but this one didn't. Not sure if I was being followed by a baby blue Cadillac full of gang bangers or not, I finally looked to my left, nodded my head at the overly exuberant old fellow, and he drove off, waving over the backseat of the boat he was driving.

When I exited at Pecos, he was waiting in the baby blue cadillac on the other side of the overpass.

Now that's when it began to get creepy.

Needless to say, Odie and I beat a fast retreat.

I could have stayed out until the shadows grew long, riding up and down the valley, enjoying what may be one of the last hurrahs of summer, the warm air with a golden undertow. And while I didn't do exactly that, I did manage to take the very longest way possible home.