Petroglyphs-Part 2

Of the nine riders headed north, five made up a core group of expats that had ridden together for years and had bonded over the loss of friends as a result of both contract completions and untimely death. Carl, an intense, look-you-straight-in-the-eye no nonsense, dark-haired native Californian led the group on the ride. After riding in Qatar for five years, he knew exactly where the petroglyphs were located despite a monotonous terrain where everything looks the same. Carl, at the time of the ride was looking for a new job and a way out of the country. By summer’s end, Carl would be gone.

Finn, a quiet Dane with a slight frame, crystal blue eyes, a gentle nature, and a thoughtful mind has lived in Qatar the longest – 12 years – and when not called off-shore, will often lead rides when Carl is not around. Although yearning for home, Finn can probably work in Qatar for as long as the oil and gas flows through the pipelines and into the massive export tankers.

The only not-quite-middle-aged member of the group is a Dominican from the Bronx whose worldly exploits have brought him much experience and a calm, "it's all good" nature. Inside his Cheshire Cat exterior, Felix’s empathic heart pumps with kindness. He is our sweeper, trailing behind, tending to the safety of the riders ahead. He has a growing family in Qatar and it is unlikely that he will leave before the end of the US wars in the Middle East. But, the wars will end and he, too, will leave.

Peter is a barrel-chested Scotsman with a wicked wit. Although once a dedicated expat rider, the demands of his life prevent him from joining the group except on the rarest of occasions. But, when he does, everyone, after giving him a bit of a razzing about abandonment, embraces him as if he was the prodigal son whom finally found his way back to his family. All contracts come to an end and at the time of the ride, Peter’s was almost up. The petroglyphs ride was his last. He would be gone before fall arrived to calm the intense summer heat.

Last of the core five was a petite, dynamo of a woman raised in Rhodesia with proper manners, impeccable English, and a lust for living, partying, and riding motorcycles. Dinky, named so because of her tiny stature, was and is the soul of the expats. She provides stability to the group because everyone but her has an exit date. Although also in Qatar for career and money, Dinky truly loves living on the thumb-sized peninsula off of Saudi Arabia’s hand. She has no intention of ever leaving and every intention of keeping her riding tribe happy and together for as long as possible.

The remaining four riders consisted of two first timers with new bikes – two businessman, one with roots in Lebanon and the other from the southern US – another Dane in oil and gas whom has ridden for half a season, and me, a teacher, falling somewhere in between the new and the old.

We were nine riders with different backgrounds, with different jobs, and with two things in common - motorcycles and the desire to make enough money to support ourselves in a manner that was sometimes impossible in our home countries. We were temporary inhabitants in Qatar, which was nothing more than a way station along our lives’ journey. When our contracts end, hopefully most of us will remain friends, but we will all move on to the next adventure: the next job.