OK, a little more tine to reflect on the missing tent. I still can’t decide which is the more likely explanation for its disappearance: neither falling off nor being taken off seems probable. But as my old friend Sherlock Holmes used to say: once you eliminate the impossible (e.g. spontaneous evaporation, or, I sold it for crack), whatever remains – no matter how improbable – must be true.
I’d just finished an ode to the tent, saying how much I liked it (except for its limited headroom) and bragged about it to my lunch companions (which is how I’m sure it was on the bike then). It was a good tent. But as I’d also noted, it was showing its age. One thing I am resolved about: it WILL be replaced. This has NOT been my last scooter road trip, nor was my latest backpacking trip a few years ago my last. I will require another tent.
I also require sleep. And this motel room will just have to suffice for that… tonight.
