Chapter 4

I pulled the backpack and cargo bag out of the tent, then the sleeping bag and ground pad. The sun wasn't up quite high enough to be shining directly down on me yet, but it would be soon so I figured I'd best get myself packed up before I went where I'd been reluctant to go – that leatherette document carrier sitting on top of the neatly folded clothes in my cargo bag.

I shook out the sleeping bag and unzipped it completely, draping it over the camp table which I'd managed to not see in the dark, or give any notice, with my eyes drawn to the motorcycle. I swept off the pad, but it didn't really need it, as I hadn't tracked much of anything into the tent. The entire thing was designed to fold up into a 1x1 foot square, which was kind of cool, and it fit easily into the bottom of the backpack that way.

Ten minutes later I had the tent cleaned out, the stakes pulled and the entire thing stored in its own bag which fit nicely inside the backpack on top of the pad, leaving room alongside it for the sleeping bag, once it was rolled up. Except for that, the backpack was ready to go. I went over and brushed off the flannel side of the sleeping bag, turned it over on the table and did the same to the outside. I turned it again, making another check to make sure nothing had been picked up from the table's surface. Zipped, folded and rolled up like I knew what I was doing, the bag fit snugly alongside the tent in the backpack.

That left only the wet clothes I'd been wearing when I came awake as Cooper James for the first time, and the cargo bag. I looked for the sun again and took a moment to get a feel for how warm it was. Northern California and the end of May? Plenty warm already, given it was only 8:36am, but it would take a couple of hours of direct sunlight to dry out those clothes, and we probably wouldn't see the direct sun for at least another hour, I guessed. I had no desire to stick around that long, as I still felt a need for a real breakfast tugging at my stomach. I moved the rest of the Oatmeal Cream Pies over into the saddlebag with the bike's title and registration and rolled up the wet t shirt and jeans and stuffed them under the last three cans of Mountain Dew. So much for the wet stuff.

The bungee cord tie-downs for securing things to the rack on the back of the bike were all hanging off the backpack, including two with braided wire loop ends rather than the normal open hooks. Hanging off those were two more small padlocks, which matched two of the three remaining keys on the keyring. The last I could tell was for the gas cap on the Road King. The cargo bag would have to go on first, so I finally decided with a sigh that I'd put off looking through the documents long enough and grabbed the bag and took it over to the camp table and opened it up.