Bram’s Switchback Scoreboard — At the first bend above Pineclip Valley, Bram tapped the cardboard dial he had taped beside the handlebars. Read the full story →
At the first bend above Pineclip Valley, Bram tapped the cardboard dial he had taped beside the handlebars. He had built it from a cereal box, two bottle caps, and a bent paper fastener, and named his new game Switchback Scoreboard. Each time the road curled like a noodle, he clicked the cap forward. Click for left, clack for right. The air smelled like cold stone and pine sap, and his touring bike purred under the saddlebags.
By the seventh curve, Bram added rules. A tunnel-shaped cloud counted double. A guardrail with three shiny bolts earned a “bonus braaap,” which he whispered into his helmet so no mountain goats could accuse him of cheating. “Official mountain business,” he announced, patting the wobbly dial. The little pointer spun, stopped, and spun again, proud as a homemade clock.
Then the cliffs answered. Far across the valley, pale lines on the peaks made giant check marks, one for every turn he had counted. Even the pines stood in rows like tiny scorekeepers. Bram laughed so hard his visor fogged. His game was not just riding the road; it was reading the mountains back. Next time you see the curving guardrail, see if Bram’s click-clack scoreboard is still keeping official mountain business.
