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I remember the headlights cutting across the sand like twin blades slicing through the dark.

My friends and I had gathered under the stars at our usual spot, a desert trailhead just outside El Paso.

It was late, but we'd done this so many times that none of us were phased by the hour.

We joked about who'd eat dust on the first big dune and swapped stories of past

rides while the wind rattled the truck doors. The desert air seemed to hum with energy,

enough to stoke our excitement for the ride ahead. We were just about to set off when a lone

four-wheeler appeared in the distance. At first I could barely make out the shape, just a hazy glow

bobbing over uneven ground. As it approached, the figure on the ATV offered a quick nod,

more of a gesture than a greeting. His gear looked battered by the elements and a layer of grime

covered his bike. No introductions came. He didn't ask where we were headed,

didn't say much of anything. He just lingered near our group, helmet visor down, waiting.

I glanced around at my buddies. We were all thinking the same thing. Should we invite this

stranger to ride with us? The desert at night can be overwhelming for anyone going solo.

Besides, there's a sort of code among off-roaders.

Help each other out when needed.

So I waved him over.

...