Ran up 93 to Chloride this evening, that old mining town tucked in against the Cerbats where half the buildings are held together by paint and stubbornness. Sat on the bike at the end of the main street a good while and watched the light climb the hills behind town until only the top ridge had any left on it. A woman was out watering plants in front of a shop that closed years ago. Rode back down with the desert letting go of the day's heat in one long exhale. Some evenings the road is just the excuse to be out in it.