The flight to Houston is quick, and I have an aisle seat all to myself. I spend the trip looking out the window, trying like hell to forget all the bad things in my life and focus on just the good things, however few of them are left. My parents thought it was weird that I’m choosing to banish myself to the middle-of-nowhere Texas for the summer, but they didn’t try to stop me. I have a suitcase of clothes and my dirt bike and gear are being shipped over in a few days. If I can’t find some land at this new house to ride, there’s a few tracks close by.

I try not to feel like it’s a bad omen when I get to the car rental place and the only thing they have available to rent all summer is a shiny red Chevrolet Malibu. Otherwise known as a soccer mom car. It’s about as un-manly of a car as you can get, besides one of those smart things that’s the size of a dog crate, and now it’s mine for the time being. I spend about two seconds considering buying a truck while I’m here, but I have one at home and it’d be a huge waste of money.

So ugly rental car it is.

I guess I should be thankful that my phone still gets signal all the way out here, otherwise I’d be screwed without my GPS.  I’d known Salt Gap, Texas was in the boonies, but as I drive out here, I realize exactly how far out it is. There is nothing but fields and fields of land, farms, gigantic mansions with long driveways and wrought iron fences. My grandfather wasn’t a rich man, but the paperwork makes his house look fairly big. There’s one thing for sure: Salt Gap has nothing in common with Los Angeles. Like… nothing.

There are no night clubs, no bars, no malls or shopping centers. I don’t pass any fancy restaurants, just some hole-in-the-wall diners and cafes that you see on movies and never really expect to see in real life. There is a McDonald’s, so at least this town has somewhat been brought into this century. Even though this town is nothing like where I’m from, I feel like I can breathe a little easier here. There won’t be any distractions, nothing standing in my way of getting a fresh start. I’ll be alone in the house that I now own, and I’ll have my dirt bike and that’s all that matters.

The GPS shows me my new house and I pull into the driveway. It looks pretty big from here. Two stories, older and kind of Victorian with a big porch. The trust that held this account until I turned eighteen had hired a lawn crew to keep up the landscaping, so the yard looks nice. You can tell the house has been vacant though.

I park and grab my stuff from the back seat, then make my way to the front door. My key works, which is a relief because for a moment I feared it wouldn’t. The place smells like an abandoned house, like an old bookstore mixed with pine trees. It’s not a horrible smell, but I’ll open some windows to air the place out.

It’s fully furnished with dusty couches and chairs, and there are old people knick-knacks everywhere. I venture around, and check out the place. It’s not bad as far as the floorplan goes. Kind of a cool house. All the stuff is super outdated though, but it gives me an idea of what my grandfather was like when he was alive. There’s a stuffed deer head above the fireplace, and that kind of gives me the creeps. But the home has a very country feel to it. Kind of like a farm house.

I head to the back door and step onto the back porch. Relief hits me as I look at exactly what I’d hoped I see. Acres of land with nothing in the way of riding my dirt bike. There are only a few trees, and they’ll be easy to ride around. No lakes or driveways or anything to get in the way. I can’t wait to rent a backhoe and start digging a track. The front yard is also pretty big because all of the houses on this street are set back far from the road and they all have big back yards. My neighbors aren’t very close, and there’s no home owner’s association here like there is back in LA. No one can stop me from digging a track. I’ll make a lake in the front of the house and use the dirt to build some jumps in the back yard.

I’m starting to get totally pumped about how great this is. I’m far away from home but no one besides my parents knows where I am. I can ride here instead of going to a track where people will recognize me and want to get autographs or grill me about how I got kicked out of racing. Here, I am invisible.

But first, I’ll need some stuff. I make a list of groceries and toiletries like towels and shampoo. There’s probably towels here but I’m not about to use them because by now they’re probably more dust than towel. I’ll also buy a new TV because the one in here is both tiny and square and so old it should belong in a museum. I plop down on the couch and look around.

This will do.

I can spend my summer here alone with just my thoughts and my dirt bike. I’ll get my life back together. When the summer ends and the new season starts, I’ll be shape again and faster than ever. My agent will have convinced the board to let me race again.

Yep. Everything will work out just fine.