“Where are You Going?”

I had just ridden from Red Lodge up through Bearspaw Pass, taking in the beauty and the wildness of the place. It had been a long day as I pulled into the tiny town with its old wooden boardwalk and hitching posts. Farther down the block between the parked motorcycles, there was indeed a horse, waiting patiently for his owner.

I had just left a cafe, with swinging saloon doors, right out of the old west. I sat down on the plank boardwalk, thinking about the ride to come that day through the high plains, a mix of scrub trees and awesome, austere beauty of the high mountains. As I sipped on my coffee I could see a young boy, maybe six or seven, sitting across the street with his dog, feeding him pieces of biscuit or cookie that he took from his pocket.

The dog was a scrufffy looking terrier, and it waited patiently, salivating over every morsel that rose from the boys pocket. After a few minutes, the boy ran out of morsels and his pup just lay down, placing his head in the boys lap. I was about to get on the bike, and was putting away the things I had taken off when I arrived.

When I looked up the boy was standing on the boardwalk, looking at my license plate. He smiled and shyly said,

“Where is that?” I noticed his jeans were torn and his runners, almost worn through.

“You mean Manitoba?” I asked. The boy just nodded.

“Well it’s about 800 miles or so from here, I guess.” I said. “

Do you know where Canada is, I asked?” Again, the boy just shook his head, and sat down on the boardwalk.

“I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard of it. Is it nice there?“

“Yes”, I answered. “It’s very nice.” I answered.

“Then I’d like to go there.” he said. He had an air of sadness about him, as though he wished he were anywhere, but where he was.

He didn’t like to make eye contact, mostly looking down, talking to his feet.

“Well, where I come from, it’s flat”, I said.

“There aren’t any mountains and it’s not as pretty as where you live”, so I think you’re pretty lucky.”

He just smiled, and looked down at his dog.

“Plus you have a great dog. I’m going to get me a great dog too.” I said.

He seemed caught up in thought for a second and then he said, “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty lucky, really.” he said. “But I’d like to see somewhere else.“

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Well, that depends”, I said, ”on the weather and the wind”.

He just looked at me, with a furrowed brow. “You don’t know where you’re going mister?” he asked.

This time I smiled. “No, I guess I don’t. I’m going to go down this road and see what’s at the other end. And then I’m going to get on another road and see where it goes.”

“Really?” he asked. A bit concerned,

“That sounds like something I’d like to do.” He said smiling.

“Well you will then. One day you’ll buy a motorcycle if you want and pack up all the things you need, throw them in bags like me, and just go.”

“You think so Mister?” he said, smiling a wide smile, scratching his head.

“Absolutely. Maybe you’ll even find Canada, and if you do, Look me up.” I said.

He just laughed. “How would I find you?” he asked.

“Well,” I said. ”Just look for an old man with a big old dog, sitting beside a very old, bright green motorcycle drinking coffee, and that will probably be me.”

He just laughed.

“I’ve got to go, “ he said.

“Maybe I’ll do that. Maybe I will.” he muttered almost inaudibly.

And with that, he got up and walked back across the street.

When I turned around, he was gone, and on the corner stood his dog, looking up the road.

As I got back on the bike and started it up, I thought to myself that I hoped he would buy a motorcycle and take it to the end of the road.

You never know what you might find, I thought.