"Hey Sam, what's everybody looking at?"

"Climbers."

"I don't see anybody."

"Hold on, Ann, I'll pull over."

They were on their first motorcycle trip together and Sam was a little nervous about riding on the same motorcycle with Ann, but even more anxious about being alone with her for the first time. They were riding at the base of El Capitan in Yosemite meadows, an elevation around four thousand feet.

Sam pulled his hog to the side of the road between two oversized campers and removed a pair of field glasses from one of the luggage bags. Handing it to Ann, he pointed half way up the sheer, granite mountainside to some indistinct specks.

"Look between those two crevasses, about half way from the top. There're two climbers pretty close together up there, and another one maybe fifty feet above them. You'll spot them when one of them makes a move."

Ann searched through the glasses, moved them from side to side, and up and down, but seemed unable to locate the climbers. "Tell me you're kidding, Sam."

"Keep looking. They're tiny. One has a yellow shirt."

"Yes. Yes, I see one. I see one. Two. Okay, I've got them. God, one guy's suspended in something like a green blanket. Looks

like he's just hanging there, eating a sandwich. Wow, What a hell of a place to go out for lunch."

"Probably having some delicious gourmet bison jerky," Sam said. "Yup, Chez El Capitan for the discriminating diner."

Ann looked at Sam and smiled. "I wonder, could they send out for pizza using a cell phone?"

Both of them laughed brief, nervous laughs, got back on the bike and continued on their way to find their reserved wood framed, canvass cabin. The late afternoon sun retreated behind high gossamer clouds and Ann snuggled close to Sam.

"The air at this altitude cools quickly," she said into his ear. "What's the weather supposed to be like this weekend?"

"The weather channel's map looked okay last night. I didn't check it this morning. There's our camping area up ahead."

A sudden breeze escorted the pair into the parking area. In the park's office they picked up their key and a map of the permanent tent campsite. The clouds had thickened and overwhelmed the sun.

"I hope there's heat in those tents," Ann said.

Sam guffawed.

"Can I assume, from your reaction, that I've engaged in some wishful thinking?"

Sam faced away from her and nodded. "You might say that. Come on, our tent is up this way. According to the map of the camp layout, we're to the right, behind this line of tents."

"So, there's no heat. What kind of furnishings are there?"

"Four blankets per bed and a light bulb."

Ann stopped. Her eyebrows drew together. She folded her arms and stared at Sam. Then broke into a slow, comprehending smile. "My expectations are changing like the weather. When you said roughing it, you really meant roughing it, didn't you?"

Sam nodded.

"Okay, for starters, where's the ladies room? And you'd better not say anything about hanging out on El Capitan."

"I don't know. Lemme check this park directory. Looks like the john is directly over there, to the left. Your bathroom kit's in the luggage bag on the right side of the bike. I'll unload the rest of the stuff. Better take your jacket, the breeze is blowing up."

"Yeah, and it looks like the clouds haven't seen the weather channel either. We may be in for some inclemency, as it were. Be back in a few." Ann left in search of the bathrooms.

"Damn, I hadn't planned on it being stormy," Sam murmured. "First night with Ann and its got to go down hill." He'd hoped for nice moonlight nights, long walks and some romance. Now what? He began to pace. "I'd better hit the head, too."

He passed Ann on her way back to their tent. "They're not too bad," she blurted. "See you back at tent two-eleven."

Sam nodded, unsure, finding it hard to say anything entertaining. When he returned, clean shaven and without the road

grime, he found Ann sitting on the edge of one of the two beds. The sixty watter was on, tucked away in the apex of the canvass

roof. "You look good, Ann. The helmet didn't bother your hairdo any."

"Thanks. Good thing it's kinda dark in here. What do you say we locate the nearest restaurant?" The wind rippled the canvass, rocking the light bulb at the top of the tent. "It looks like it's only a short walk from here."

Dinner was a few chilidogs and some Calistoga mineral water and very little conversation. Sam couldn't decide whether he was either very hungry or very nervous, then admitted to himself that he was both. Ann seemed a little anxious, too. She's usually more effervescent, like the mineral water... Bubbly, but definitely not plain.

Thunder interrupted their quiet munching. Both of them quit chewing like a stop action movie and listened to the gentle, rolling thunder echo back and forth, back and forth from the surrounding mountains. "We didn't bring our rain gear," Ann said. "We'd better eat and run. That thunder is real close." Sam kept recycling the damn the luck, damn the luck loop in his mind as they sprinted amongst lines of wet, blowing tents. They were soaked by the time they reached their tent.

Once inside, they both began to unbutton and unzip their dripping clothing as if in an undeclared race with each other. "Damn jeans are glued," Sam mumbled, stumbling slightly.

Ann struggled, began to laugh then threw herself onto a bed. "You're gonna have to help me out of these jeans," she said. "They've got me trapped." She began to shiver as she laughed. As if following a script, they each grabbed towels and started drying each other. "Love your goose pimples," she quipped.

In unison, their spontaneous laughter erupted and their nervous giddiness surfaced on cue. They were in an embrace before they knew it.

"I smell onions," Ann said with a grin. "Good thing I had some, too."

Sam pulled back slightly and whispered, "I had some beans too, don't forget."

"You wouldn't."

"Not if I can help it." He faked a serious expression, "Are you a left bed person or a right bed person?"

"I'm not arguing, I'm cold." Ann bolted to the nearest bed and pulled the army-like blankets back. She jumped in and was out of her wet underclothes in one liquid move, buried beneath the layers of blankets.

Sam was elated, relieved and naked all at once. He was beside her, face to face, before the next goose bump had a chance.

It was going to be okay after all. Rain can be a friend to a biker, on occasion.

"I've been worried about the rain, Ann. I had a real bad deal the last time the weather soured on me."

Ann put her arm across his chest, brought a leg over his, and said, "Ah, enter a vignette. I detect an interlude about to surface. A story to soothe, or to avoid what we've planned for all week. But please go on, I'm all ears."

"The hell you are. Not from where I am you're not," he whispered. They snuggled and chuckled.

"The last time I got caught in a downpour, I was on my way to Sturgis, South Dakota for an annual bash with a bunch of

bikers from my local area. I woke up that Sunday morning to the disappointing, unpleasant sound of water dripping in the downspout outside my bedroom. I knew I'd have to ride in my yellow slicker.

"The bike started bogging in the muddy road spray on Route Four after only fifteen minutes from where I live, running intermittently on one of the bikes two cylinders. I kept going, hoping it would go away. You know how you hope things just clear up by themselves?"

Ann snickered. "You mean, like the weather, perhaps?"

"I met up with the others as planned, and when the rain eased up, the bike ran better. When it poured, it bogged. It poured in Nevada all along Route Fifty, and the bike bogged badly. Anyway, I had to leave the group and head north to find the nearest repair shop a few hours away. I got a motel room, went to the shop early Monday morning and they were closed on Mondays. The wind-up was..."

Ann rolled on top of Sam and shut his mouth. Heavy raindrops pelted the canvas as wind shook the trees and thunder echoed throughout the meadow, reverberating from mountain to mountain all through the night.

But Sam couldn't sleep. With Ann snuggled to him, he was awash in the swells of an ocean of contentment, planning their next ride. Big Sur, perhaps.