A roar that rose out of the depths of nowhere pierced the silence of the forest. Moments later they emerged from its foliage like phantoms on wheels, and I, was the lone hiker in their path. Their leader saw me. Slowly, he raised one gloved hand to a halt position, then lifting two fingers into the air like a salute, he advanced. The phantom behind him followed suit; the third, just followed.
They were dressed most identically, their dark regalia moulded tightly to their slender bodies. Their heads were encased in shiny black spheres that reflected the shifting forest around them, like videos gone mad, like eerie circular processions of trees that began in the centre where their noses should have been, then exited around to the back on both sides of their over-blown glass heads.
Their leader continued to advance, steadily, and as he closed in I edged tighter to my side of the trail. Just before he reached me, he gave a curt nod of his shiny black sphere and with a roar-roar of his motorcycle, he passed on by. The phantom behind him followed suit; a curt nod, a roar-roar; and the third; nod, roar-roar, and gone.
I stood there looking after them. That was the first, and last, time I ever saw the strange trio. Meeting them on the trail like that was surreal, to be sure, but let them have their fun. They were polite, most respectful in fact. Let them enjoy the woods. It is this time and immersion into the forest that will develop in them a healthy respect and awe for the beauty and serenity of that Lady we call Nature.