Riders in the Storm - Part Four

We climbed the hill next to Green’s Farms Academy.  Usually I loved the top of that hill.  Two lone Adirondack chairs sit serenely atop the hill overlooking the beach and the sound.  The chairs call out to me, “Stop.  Sit down. Enjoy the view.”  Not today.  Today, you’d need a seatbelt to stay in one of those chairs.  The wind drove us into the center of the road, slamming us broadside again.  Spectacular waves bombarded the beach.  The wind and the surf roared in our ears.  “I just want to get past this spot,” I thought.  “It’s the most exposed spot on route.” 
Almost. Huge trees bent in the wind.  I was anxious about the next stretch, too.  We would ride in a more protected area, a tree-lined section of road, where a canopy actually makes the road feel like a tunnel.  As we entered, I was grateful for the relief from the wind, but the old trees worried me.  All around us leaves, twigs, and some pretty good-sized branches littered the road.  “Be careful up here.  Watch out for branches,” I shouted.
“What?”  It was too noisy for Emma to hear me. 
“I said watch out for branches falling.”
“Where?”
“Above you!”  Immediately I regretted saying that, as Emma looked up and nearly drove into a stone wall.  “Never mind.  Just be careful.” 
Around this time, the image of my wife suddenly leaped into my head. I saw her standing at the front doorway.  She glanced at her watch. She stared down the street.  She looked worried…or was she angry?  Of course she was angry.  If she had any idea what I’d gotten her daughter into, she was very angry.  I didn’t blame her. 
I pedaled harder.
Suddenly I heard a loud CRACK.  I flinched and looked up.  I didn’t see anything. Just then I heard a crash behind me.  I looked over my right shoulder.  A huge section of a stockade fence had collapsed and fallen into the road behind us.  If we had passed that spot two seconds later, we would have been under that fence.  “Did you see that?” I yelled to Emma.
“See what?” she shouted back.
“That fence.”
“I can’t hear you,” she shouted. 
“It’s probably just as well,” I thought.  “That would have freaked her out.”
Soon, we rounded the bend at the end of the tunnel of trees.  We were nearing Southport Beach, and I thought, “Great, we’re literally out of the woods.  The rest of the way is totally flat.  There’s no one on the road.” It turned out I was partly right.