As with the Pyreneean mountain passes he loved, the road snaked into the horizon with hairpin after hairpin to focus his mind. The sun beat down on the ultra-marine, ultra-calm sea. At times the water was so close Karura could touch it. At other times the false camber of the road threatened to pitch him a hundred or more feet into its salty depths.
A new motorway some miles inland had shifted time backwards on this lonely coastal road. Many who were holidaying would pass this magical landscape without even thinking. Karura lapped it up and drank deeply from the cup of beauty and truth. Nearly 2500 miles had elapsed and the syncretism of bike and rider was complete. Karura's heart beat and the purr of the engine became as one. Later that day, Karura crossed the border into Slovenia. He could sense the gods were still smiling.
