The road through the desert stretched on in the headlight. The cone of white was highlighting the dotted line onwards towards hell, or maybe Los Angeles. The only sound was the wind rushing through his hair and the steady beat of the mechanical heart he pushed onwards. The repetition of the landscape, soulless in the dark, and the steady sound of the engine lulled him onwards. Was he running away from something or towards it? He no longer knew. The road stretched on into the night beckoning him on.

After hours on the same numbing road, his arms and legs locked into place with nothing outside intruding the traveler noticed a change. A strange, but familiar, odor in the air. The smell of colitas, small buds from the end of the marijuana plant. Faintly in the distance a light appeared.

Was this a hallucination brought on by the hours of road, or the chance a rest? Was this a chance to hide away from the stark reality of daylight and what it would bring? When the sun rose is this where he could find shadows to hide in?

The light drew closer. It was not a hallucination. The bike seemed to fight him slightly as he pulled into the dimly lit car park. Gravel rattled under his wheels as the bike seemed to tell him to continue but he ignored it. He knew he needed to rest; he had to stop.

As the traveler turned off his bike and rested it onto its stand there was a momentary confusion. There were no signs, the only light from a window on the side of the building. Maybe this wasn't a hotel; maybe it was a lonely ranch. As he was deciding whether to continue or try for a bed the door opened.

Framed in the faint light stood a young woman. She was holding a candle up in front of her and he couldn't make her out. " Welcome to the Hotel California, Would you like to check in?" He paused, unsure himself of the uncertainty he felt. She sounded young. Squinting into the light he thought she looked attractive. Her voice was attractive at least.

" It's O.K., the power went out, we'll have the generator going soon, come on in we've plenty of room."

Slowly the traveler stretched from his bike. His joints creaking in protest, his shoulders seemingly frozen in front of him he made his way to the door. Inside it was gloomy, the only light from the candle disappearing down the corridor. His brain cried out for rest, and his body cried out for a bed. He stepped over the threshold and he followed the light down the corridor, much as he had followed his headlamp

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