FAITH RESTORED BORIS

FAITH RESTORED BORIS

This entry is part 9 of 85 in the series Australian Motorcyclist Issue #24

FINDING HOPE IN THE COLD OF NIGHT

It was late when I rolled into the servo for fuel. Must have been around 2am.Only werewolves, cops and nasty old bastards on stupid motorcycles were abroad.

It was also cold. Not teeth-achingly cold, but enough to make your moustache crusty with snot. No biggie. I only had about 30 klicks to go. Ice death was not imminent and I needed fuel and cigarettes.

The servo only had one other customer, and he was probably cold too, but he was also transcendentally glorious. I could see that glory four pump-islands away, absorbing the otherworldly light of the hyper-orange floods like a leathery singularity.

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