Now where were we....oh yes.
After an exciting ride back to the pits in a track golf cart (I don't think I've ever ridden in a golf cart before), we filmed a little more outside the pits until Ducati closed up and were ready to lock the doors. We moved inside and Ducati hesitantly abandoned us. Though it wasn't exactly like being locked inside the Louvre overnight, it was a privileged and unusual circumstance. We finished the remainder of the interview, the photographers packed up their gear and then I was alone...
...if you can call being in the presence of a colony of Ducatis "alone." For a brief moment I thought about all the times I was really isolated on the trip--in the pouring hail huddled under a tin roof in Herrick, SD; watching a midnight train glide through a cornfield in Wyoming at midnight, bike illuminated by a sliver of silver moon; sitting in a room in Ontario with a cheap print of van Gogh staring at me all night while eating a bag of Intense Pickle Doritos drinking wine. During these and hundreds of similar moments across the country I had no idea what my future would be. No idea if what I was doing was just a grand diversion, a waste of time, or a path to nowhere, or a series of singular events that would eventually connect into some grand plot. But they all meant something while they were happening in the present and I'm happy if that's all. A tremendous collection of memories continue to stay with me in a way that events that are supposed to mean something have not.
Alone again, at CotA, with keys to the Ducati castle I still had no clue what it meant or why I was really there, what it would or wouldn't lead to. It was just me and a multiplicity of demons (except these ones were real and gorgeous). After a knowing grin, I gathered up up my gear, shut the lights off, and walked away with more memories that will be impossible to forget.