Dunes

They should have taught me, back in school, that when climbing a sand dune in a quad I should be on first gear.

There I was, under the heat of the sun, my back wheel stuck hopelessly in the sand, pushing the Go button (or whatever that button is called) like one does an elevator button in a horror film – no matter how many times you push that damned button, the elevator won’t come any faster, so it’s totally useless.

“My quad is broken!” I hollered to Julien, who had turned back when he noticed, after 10 minutes, that I wasn’t behind him. “See?” I pushed at the button again to make my point, making the wheel sink deeper into the sand.

“Wait – no, don’t do it like that, Kala! Doucement, comme ça.” He made a little demonstration by pushing the button of his quad. The motor came out sounding like a purring cat under the sun.

I followed his example. Mine sounded like a cat being thrown off a building’s rooftop.

Finally another quad stopped by, and with the combined strength the two boys managed to haul my quad wheel out of the sand as I sat there, drinking water like a useless princess.

“My quad is really broken,” I informed Julien defensively, ignoring the smirk on his face. “I swear. Let’s exchange quads, you take mine, and you’ll see!” I jumped onto his quad. “See ya later!” With that, I zoomed off to conquer the sand dunes, faintly hearing him calling me a “pirate”.

Fifteen minutes later, Julien caught up with me, my back wheel stuck in the sand.