Rough Road

I was making good time on the road from San Juan del Sur to Managua, until the police diverted traffic onto a side road. If they were giving an explanation I couldn’t have understood, so I turned off without complaint. Soon the road turned to mud, and my bald tires made it feel like ice.

The ruts act like black holes pulling me closer, trying to swallow me whole. I have to steer into the rut to counter act the slide downhill, and soon find myself having to ride in the middle of it. My front tire misses a big hole, but the back falls in. It’s deep enough that my bike lands on the frame, and before I lose all my momentum I let the throttle loose and walk the bike forward, spraying a rooster tail of mud and water a mile high. Once I am moving again I have to keep my legs down to steady the heavy bike. But the road is too much and sends crashing to the ground.

Now covered in mud and pissed off I have 20 cars, trucks, and chicken buses spread out in each direction waiting impatiently for me to lift my bike up and get it out of the middle of the road. After violently throwing my helmet into the trees I heave the bike up and jump on. I almost fall over again, this time onto an oncoming car but wrestle the bike through the mud and back onto the main road.

After walking back for the helmet, I made it to Managua. Still covered in mud, but in one piece.

--Ryan