the bridge to savannah

The roads headed south into Savannah were peaceful until they turned back onto highway 17. It had been several hundred miles that they'd been more or less following that road, long enough that the number in and of itself had become a source of comfort to them. A trail marker towards something they couldn't find without giving pieces of themselves every day. There had been other numbers, other roads, bike trails. They had gotten lost and found themselves, and continued to find themselves as they went.

Phil was a veteran traveler, having followed the winds and ridden against them back and forth across the country. He'd built a road kit and stripped out the dead weight and revised it so many times that his comfort and sense of security from it lent strength to his partner in their quest. His flaws weren't physical, he was a workhorse with a heart of gold, marred by a drinking problem and a temper that followed Murphys law to a t.

Ashley had a job she hated and a drinking problem of her own leaving her treading water in an overpriced pool. By the time he got done telling her about the voyage he was planning, she had already started planning her kit. By the time she asked him about coming along, she had gathered resources and put in her two weeks notice. Determination was her weapon. This adventure would be her ticket out of the daily grind that bled her of her hope and happiness.

Her mother examined him like a prosecutor in a murder trial, asking loaded questions and searching for reasons to deny her approval. Before final approval she asked him why he traveled this way. Phil had been asked this many times and generally said something like this:

"You drive a car and the scenery flies by, drive a few hours and you are in a completely different environment. Bipedal transportation, be it a bicycle, a longboard, or the old shoe leather express, has rewards in itself, the time it affords you to analyze. To appreciate, to criticize, to question, to empathize. There are times that its hard to motivate yourself, when you have to force yourself to keep pushing. Those moments are always rewarded. The reward? That's the people, the places, the adventure."

His answer left her with only one question, would he protect her daughter with his life? Without hesitation he gave his word that he'd do everything to keep her safe. Ashley would have left with him regardless of her mothers approval, but having it made leaving easier. Now they could turn their focus to final planning and getting on the road.

After a few weeks of pedaling along highway shoulders and country roads they'd gotten into a rhythm that afforded them time to daydream. The eyes follow the road, the hands steer, the feet pedal, but the mind can freely roam. Phil was thriving, back in his element after months of stagnancy. Ashley had tasted adventure and she savored every moment that wasn't being spent working a dead end job to barely afford rent.

It wasn't sunshine, unicorns, and gumdrops. There were storms, cold weather, and the daily exhaustion that comes with riding all day for weeks at a time without a days rest. The frustration that comes with flat tires and broken spokes is amplified by the cars whizzing past as repairs are hastily made in the highway shoulder. There was an air of danger that kept them both attentive to details, and stopped them from pushing their luck too far.

As they turned back onto 17 south the road condition went from fresh paved country road to a cracked and weathered pavement. Sun bleached to a light gray and in dire need of newly painted lines, the next ten miles would be an exercise in fortitude. This stretch of highway was a two lane swatch carved into the South Carolina swampland, leading to a bridge at the Georgia border. Semi trucks doing ten over blasted by them as constantly as the mosquitoes that the travelers unwillingly fed.

The light faded in the sky by the time they reached the end of the fractured stretch of roadway, leaving the glow of Savannah to provide dramatic accent to the bridge looming before them. They pulled off to a patch of short grass beside the beginning of the bridge to rest for a minute and discuss what to do in the city upon arrival. Just before dark, the usual protocol was to find a patch of woods to camp in without being seen. Cities were a different beast entirely, a place where shelter meant making friends or paying for a hotel.

Ashley took a cigarette out of a partially crushed pack and inhaled sharply Through the filter as she put the flame of her lighter to the other end. She looked over at Phil with a smile in her eyes. "You're not scared are you? I mean yeah, that trailer is heavy and you're a monster for pulling it all this way, but you look hesitant to cross the bridge."

He watched her mouth as she spoke, watched the smoke slowly flow out as her lips spelled out the first thing he'd heard in hours that didn't originate from a motor vehicle. He gently took the cigarette from her and took a long pull and exhaled. "It ain't that I'm scared necessarily, more that I'm tired and I figure its gonna burn up all the rest of my get-up-and-go to cross this big bastard and we might have to make it clear through town to find somewhere to camp. I just wanted to rest up for a minute and check my brakes and whatnot."

"Okay then" she said as she pulled out and lit another cigarette rather than share what she felt she had earned. "We should go find somewhere to have a beer and talk to some locals. If we don't meet anyone who will put us up for the night then we'll just ride out of town later and sleep in in the morning." She took a few steps toward him and put an arm around his waste, leaning her head against his chest. "How far today?"

"Somethin' like thirty-six-an-a-half so far." He replied as he put an arm around her shoulders. "Figure we'll be over forty by quitting time for the day. Beer sounds real nice right about now by the way. Me and beer are about to appreciate the shit outta you." His hand slid down her back until his fingertips started trying to work their way into her waistband and into her panties. She grinned at him and moved her hand slowly to his belt buckle before pushing him away.

"You need a shower before I'm doing anything with you" she said with a sexy half smile, as if to egg him on. "Besides we are in the open next to a fucking highway. Cops would get us for indecency or something." She watched as he kneeled next to his bicycle and started examining the brakes. "Ohh you're so quiet now, are you sad? You don't need sex right now anyway, we still have to get up and over that bridge and you're already tired."

Phil glanced back at her for a moment trying to come up with something snappy to come back with. "First off, we're gonna make it into Savannah tonight, regardless of me being tired. Second, we took road baths at that rest stop earlier and I washed all the important parts. And third you know it would excite the shit outta you to do that in public." He knew her well enough to know he was right. He also knew that she had his balls in a vice and not to piss her off.

She put the half crushed pack of smokes into a pocket in her purse and pulled out her phone. "Its only six thirty, too early to get away with it with all the traffic. Maybe later babe." She was already fantasizing about what they could do alongside 17 south when Phil flicked his cigarette towards the roadway and pulled Ashley close to kiss her. She blew smoke into his mouth and giggled as she stepped toward her bike. "Save it sailor, let's cross the bridge and go get shitfaced."

Her ascent was steady, and a good bit faster than his. He didn't mind pulling the trailer every day on flat ground, but bridges brought a fleeting sense of impending doom. Phil was determined to ride to the top without stopping, as he had on countless smaller ones, and despite the intensity of the burn he felt in his legs and back, he kept his pace just behind Ashley as they reached the pinnacle, overlooking the waterway they were crossing. Something was sticking in his mind as he started to coast. Maybe it was about slowing down or taking a break but it wasn't clear.

The downslope of the bridge was a welcome change from having beaten their legs senseless riding up the other side. Ashley took lead, keeping to the right to ride down the off ramp. Phil allowed himself a smile and a sigh watching Ashley's butt as she pedalled faster into the turn. As if it were clockwork he started slowly applying the rear brake handle followed by the front. His blood suddenly went cold as he realized he wasn't getting any response from the back brake system. With 150lbs of trailer behind you its hard to stop quickly. Without back brakes doing 20 odd miles an hour it becomes deadly.

Ashley looked back just in time to see the collision, to hear the sickening snap as phils femur shattered against a hesco barrier. He flew end over end down the 30 foot drop, landing in a pile of road gravel. Ashley screamed his name and rode as fast as she could the rest of the way down the ramp and onto the side street that took her to his side. Aside from his leg there were various parts of his body that had been grotesquely twisted by the impacts. She looked at him with eyes flooded with tears. She desperately wanted to see his face, to hold him close to her again. With all of his remaining strength, he moved his bloodshot eyes to meet hers "I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to. I love you. Tell Savannah I said hi". She sobbed dripping tears on his broken body "we made it babe. Its gonna be okay".

It was less than a day before her mother had made it down to pick her up. Less than a week and she was able to smile again. In a month she had a job, a car, a new life. Phil's parents treated her like a daughter for the next few years, until they got over his death. She never rode a bicycle again, but she would always keep his memory in her heart. He gave her something she couldn't have done for herself, he gave her adventure.