Favorite moment

I was riding along Highway 97 amid the rolling brown hills of Eastern Washington, the air hot and dry.

High on a ridge off to my left I could see a massive brown horse with a black mane. He didn't move, just stood there as I roared past along the blacktop below.

I watched him as long as I dared, savoring the moment even as he grew distant and small, and I had to put my eyes back on the road.