Where is that rock? 

     Where??  

     I was taking a walk across the road in farmer Mike Jackson's fields and woodlots. After walking for 
close to two hours, I decided to go home by the most efficient way. This is a series of connecting farm 
trails that runs from field to field. 

     A few years ago, I used this way when riding around the fields on my trail bike, technically known 
as an enduro, a CZ175. One afternoon I had ridden up to the top of Bennett Hill. Then started down. 
As I was passing along a tractor trail through a field, suddenly there was a breadbox size rock, directly, 
unavoidably, right in front of me. I wrenched the handlebar to one side, trying to avoid hitting the rock. 
I went into a skid and hit the rock anyway. I was thrown off the bike, through the air, the bike was 
thrown too. I came down on the ground on my back. The bike came down too. 

	The end of the handlebar struck me full in the chest, immediately I felt great dismay. 
OH!, NO!, is this the end? That handlebar could have broken a rib and crushed it into a lung. 
Am I going to die here, alone, in searing agony? I continued to scuff along the ground, 
shedding momentum. I was amazed, about twenty or thirty feet. Before I stopped, I felt great relief. 
I inhaled, without great pain. 

	After lying there for a minute, I was able to get up and begin the walk home. 
I didn't feel like riding the bike. I pushed it over to lean on a tree. A few days later I walked back 
up to slowly ride it home.  This afternoon I went for a walk in those fields. I sold the CZ175 
over a year ago. I was walking back by the same way I had ridden years ago. I went across the field. 
I identified the place I had fallen. Now, where is that rock?