The next day, armored with a new bug visor, Matt Brass decided to try his new bike route again. He set out in the afternoon, the weather was hot and humid after a light rain earlier in the day. Unsure how the weather would effect the bug problem, he coated himself liberally with repellent before unloading his bike from its rack. The smell of the repellent thickened the already hot and heavy air. He mounted and set off down the trail.
Almost immediately, the path became foggy. It was as if the fog preferred to stay in the secluded woods rather than flood out into surrounding developed land. Looking ahead, Matt saw his visibility decrease: 100 yards, 50, 20, 10. He had to slow down. He wasn’t sure how far down the path that downed tree had been, and he didn’t want to hit it at full speed because of fog. 5 yards visibility now, and he decreased his pace to a cautious meandering just fast enough to keep his bike upright. It seemed he would not achieve the relaxed, almost meditative state that he could only reach while biking without distraction. Again, he felt the desire to turn back. It bothered him how events had transpired to foil his second attempt to conquer this path.
He arrived at the fallen tree across the path. At least, he thought it was the same one. Strangely it seemed that other logs had been thrown across the path, criss-crossing the space above the first fallen log. Matt was shocked at this. While before, the fallen log had seemed a mere natural obstacle, this felt more like a road block. It had a forboding intent. This, he wouldn’t be able to just carry his bike over. He’d have to clear it or circle around through the woods. He turned around and headed back the way he’d come, picking up speed as the fog cleared. He wondered who was responsible for the road block. Local kids playing fort? A territorial vagrant? Who were they trying to keep out? Had they seen him yesterday and built up the road block just for him? This wouldn’t be as simple a fix as the bug visor, but Matt realized that he wanted to get to the bottom of it. Somehow this felt personal, like someone was trying to hold him back, and he couldn’t resist fighting it, not without knowing why.