As the last hums of engines fade, and the Island becomes almost eerily quiet, I take stock of my little house and am grateful that she survived Biker Rally intact. We did, indeed, host bikers, and they left everything in good condition, though I do have two questions, which I will not ask, because I can’t truly be bothered and I am ready to be done with the whole short term rental thing: How many people actually stayed in my house? And did motorcycles actually come inside? From the doorway, Fiona the paper mache horse offers no answers. She’s a horse, after all, not a Ring camera. And all in all, although some evidence points to the conclusion that more than two people and at least one bike were in here, I’m just happy there’s no damage, nothing missing, and that somehow, the little house and I have completed a cycle. Biker Rally is such an iconic Island event, it’s hard to claim to have truly hosted tourists in Galveston without hosting the bikers. And so, our journey is complete. The house and I have done all the hosting we could stand and lived to tell. Yes, there’s still the Thanksgiving reservation we will honor, but with Biker Rally behind us, I feel a certain sense of finality. Onwards and upwards! I already dug my art supplies back out. I’m ready to reclaim my territory. And as the year’s first truly cold night descends upon the Island, I get to lie in my own comfortable bed on fresh sheets and read a book I like which takes place on Martha’s Vineyard in the winter. I guess this is as cozy as it gets.
