The most beautiful monster in the world

The Pacific coast of Mexican is stunning beyond belief. A carpet of tropical jungle covers the mountainous terrain. A verde rug of fertility, meeting the jagged azure waters of the Pacific. The entire landscape hummed with life. Ants and spiders, jaguars and toucans, and of course the people with their vibrant and energetic Mariachi music leaking like Tequila from every hovel and hotel.

Fred had crossed from Cabo San Lucas, where he left the dry arid desert of Baja, and dove into the steam bath of Tropical mainland Mexico. The change threw Fred’s health into a nosedive. A strange chest cold came from nowhere, and squeezed the very breath right out of him. He managed to limp down to Puerto Vallarta, but further he could not go without recuperation.

Lying on the bed, ceiling fan lazily shifting the soup about, was the best he could hope for. Fits of coughing wracked his body, and jolted bolts pain through his head. There was nothing to do about it, and nobody to cry too, so he lay quietly in bed, dosed up on painkillers and surfed the net on his phone.

He had garnered some followers on a few obscure chat rooms discussing bike travel. He was browsing some threads when a DM appeared.

TN: Hey FW, my name is Tina. I was sitting in a cantina when a woman shared a story about a guy on his bike who rode through just a few days ago. From her description I thought it could be you. Where are you?

Fred felt a tingle of anticipation tingle down his spine. But it was quickly tempered by a story he had just read online about a traveller being scammed. If it's too good to be true, it probably is. He put the message out of his mind, reminding himself of a pearl of wisdom from a long ago sage he once met - let your subconscious chew on it a while before you act.

He had reached the end of the internet - at least the little patch he knew, and succumbed to the temptation of seeing how much he could learn about Tina.

So Tina is Tina Nagama, an Israeli biker. Her Instagram account was replete with images of herself - hmm a little narcissistic - and her adventures on her bike. She had a YouTube account filled with videos full of emotive drone footage and entertaining misadventures with locals. Fred binged on her videos, and even recognised some of the scenery of the last week on the road. It's true, she’s just behind me somewhere.

Fred was torn. Tina was hot. A short, slim dark haired beauty with piercing blue eyes. Hot, even when she was waking up from a rough night of wild camping. Impressive. What really caught him was her upbeat nature. That permanent sunshine brightness. Everything was always OK, and would work out fine. It painfully made Fred recalled sullen moments of his trip, where the battle with his darker moods would turn titanic.

He relented and DM’ed her.

FW: Hey, not sure how you think you know me, but true I am in Puerto Vallarta recuperating from a cold.

Fred reread and rewrote this simple line many times, antagonising on how she would interpret each word. The last time he had a girl around was years ago. That is ignoring that one spontaneous night of naked craziness with that ballerina in Chattanooga.

Five minutes later…

TN: Wow, great to hear from you. I am just riding into Puerto Vallarta! Amazing. What hotel are you staying in?

Fred's pulse quickened. Do I really want this to happen? The stupid internal question would not resolve itself neatly. But now he was trapped. What impression would it give her if he refused to tell her?

FW: Casa La Columna. But I warn you that I am sick.

TN: NVM. I need to stop for a day and catch up with some things myself. Would be nice to speak with another biker. Do you know if they have rooms?

FW: no idea. I’ll ask.

TN: thx

He had now passed the point of no return. 30 minutes later…

FW: Yes there are rooms. I have tentatively reserved one for you.

TN: Oh you are such a gem. I found the hotel on maps. I think I have another hour at most of riding.

Fred lay back and tried to relax, but the trepidation and anticipation was too much. He found himself looking at himself in the mirror and prejudging his appearance. In the end he stepped into the shower, but just before he flicked on the water, he stepped out again judging it would be too obvious he’d showered for her. He had to admit to himself that the exchange with Tina and her imminent arrival had put some positive energy into him. The sloth and weariness of the last days was in retreat. A new idea to distract him arose. Wylma really needed to have a service, a job that he had kept pushing away, so now was a good time to tackle it. He wheeled her into the room, opened his tool kit and began with the spoke wrench.

He’d lost complete track of time. With music playing in his headphones, the chatter outside reached his very door before he noticed it. The door knocked. He opened it. Tina stood outside beaming her sunshine smile with Francesca, the receptionist in tow. Tina’s hair was matted with sweat with silly looking indentations from her helmet. Her face was still slicked with perspiration and exertion. It was the girl from the images and videos, but now in real life, all upbeat and happy. As she was about to speak, the roar of a jet taking off from the airport next door obliterated all other sound. Fred shrugged, and when they could speak again, all he could say was, “At least it’s cheap!”

Fred gave a sheepishly giggle, but Tina laughed out aloud and slapped her thigh with emphasis. This made Fred immediately relax. They sat outside under a nearby palm tree and talked about anything and everything. He could feel himself being pulled into her orbit. He was being gradually seduced by her beaming optimism. At one point Fred found her effervescence almost unbelievable. Surely nobody can be that upbeat, all the time! 

They parted ways for a few hours till their rendezvous for dinner at the little steakhouse just down the road. He had gone there on his first evening and recalled the breathtaking sunset over the beach from their balcony. Their dinner stretched on much later than he thought he could handle, but eventually he had to crash. When the bill arrived, Fred could not hold back his chivalry and paid for them both. Tina made a token effort to split the bill, but didn’t fight him for it.

Fred woke feeling better, but still a little short of breath after taking the short walk down to the beach and back. Another day of rest was necessary, but he felt he had the energy to get Wylma properly into shape for a departure on the morrow. When he shared his plan, Tina thought this was perfect since she also had stuff to sort out. She seemed quite happy with the idea of a riding buddy.

The next day dawned bright and clear as they made their way down the coast.

Ting ting, Fred could hear from behind. He stopped and let her catch up.

“Can I take the lead? I want to take some video” she asked between breaths.

She took the lead and they headed off again. Fred had to admit, the narrow rolling road with the emerald jungle almost smothering it like a tunnel, looked amazing.

A few kilometres later, Tina stopped without warning. Fred was so close that he almost ran into her.

“I want to do a little vlog about a breakdown.” she said

“What’s up with your bike?” Fred asked with the seed of concern, looking at her machine.

“Nothing at all, but my followers need things to happen. A little contrived hardship is social media gold” she cheerily answered.

Laying down her bike, she got some tools out and created a phoney mechanical tableau on the side of the jungle road. Camera on tripod she even spent time tousling her hair in fake distress. It took several takes till she was happy, and they set off again.

The rest of the day was punctuated by photo ops, video sessions, and she even launched her drone once. During that session, Fred had to hide under a thicket of trees to stay out of shot.

The next few days progressed like the last. Fred began to become a little irked by the completely new rhythm dictated by Tina and her social media career. But it was the lunch stop at a roadside cantina that was the turning point for Fred. Tina finally exposed that she was no guru of emotional control as she publicly portrayed. It all centred around a needlessly heated discussion she launched into with the cantina proprietor about filming. Not that the old fossil minded her filming, but he was not going to allow her to boss him around for the perfect angle and shot. She became terribly upset when she could not charm the old man, and she carried that dark cloud around with her the whole afternoon, except when she would snap into that artificial sunshine optimism for her camera.

The day was coming to an end and they found a nice abandoned building pad at the end of an overgrown path which overlooked a postcard view of rolling jungle for their camp. Tina did some filming and then busied herself with her laptop and gadgets while Fred collected firewood to prepare dinner for them.

Halfway through his work, Tina whooped in glee from behind her screen.

“Good news?” he enquired casually from over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I just got my 1 millionth subscriber on YouTube!” she beamed

Fred, gave her a quizzical frown as if to say, I don’t really know what that means.

“What rock have you been living under Fred” she retorted with genuine incredulity. Her tone hinted that Fred was thick or naive. “It means that my videos will earn even more money for me.”

This stunned answer led Fred to ask the obvious next question. “How much do you earn from your videos?”

“Last month, on all the platforms, I earned 96,256 US dollars,” she said with matter of fact pride.

Fred stood slack jawed. The number didn't make sense to him. So he asked her to repeat her answer slowly.

Now with glittering satisfaction, she repeated the huge number. Fred had trouble wrapping his head around the concept of this sum of money. Not only had she earned it in the short space of a month, but she had done it doing what he was doing for free. The rest of the night was spent quizzing Tina about her social media career. Fred absorbed it all like a sponge. There was YouTube, Instagram, Facebook, Tictok, and even Onlyfans. She blushed while trying to keep her explanation of that last one as vague as possible.

It was time to sleep, when her tone took a sombre pitch. “In the beginning it was just Bruce here…” she pointed to her bike, “... and me, and the open road.” she mussed. A long lost longing had crept into her voice.

“The pure beauty of that open road, and the adventures waiting for me around each corner. I was the happiest girl on earth, then…” she suddenly choked up, and Fred could see her fighting something deep inside.

“.., then I began posting some of my pictures on Instagram, and that was when I took my first step on my slippery slope to hell.” Fred could hardly hear the last words, but there was no mistaking the deep regret she was trying to express.

She raised her head and looked him directly in the eye, and in the firelight he could see tears pooling in her eyes.

There was no sunshine optimism in them at all. It was a haunting look of someone who discovered they had sold their soul to the devil, and realised too late, the true magnitude of the loss.

The next day dawned with deep, low hanging clouds. Fred liked these days because of the ominous mystery they draped over the world. Tina wanted to do one of her waking up in the wild videos, but Fred could see that she had her work cut out for her, fighting off a morose mood which she struggled to hide. The production took over 2 hours to complete, during which he stood around inspecting insects in the thick brush, all the while pondering the revelations of last night.

He began to understand that the girl he had gotten to know over the last few days, is not the girl who left home on her bike, in search of genuine adventure. Fred pondered his own changes over the years of riding, and what his future held for him. He never saw his destitute poverty as a liability, at least not while he and Wylma were on the road, but he also ruefully admitted to himself that the road will end for him one day. Having a nice fat bank account somewhere waiting for him to start the next chapter was an alluring idea he could not escape.

The next day, she showed him just how monstrous her personality had become. A ridiculous string of contrived disasters, all filmed and photographed with perfect lighting and aspects, then the confrontation with a police patrol that almost got him arrested. He vehemently chastised himself for letting his reflexive chivalry escalate to such an extreme level, all for the sake of content. Tina had also begun to enlist Fred as her lackey to speed up her content sessions, after he had casually expressed his chagrin at their slow progress. He felt like she’d played him like a fiddle. 

The last hour of that riding day, Fred began to hatch a plan. Tina’s toxic vacillations were unnerving him. He began to comprehend the magnitude of her revelation of that fateful night. She had long ago abdicated the true meaning of her trip, and embraced the modern model of an online attention harlot. He began to understand what she had become, and with that understanding, a certainty settled on him. She would corner him to do something he would sorely regret if he hung around her much longer.

That evening, they found a camp, but it was a little too small for both their tents. He suggested that she stay there, while he finds a camp for himself nearby and returns to spend the evening with her, once he’s set up. He made this sound so natural, she didn’t question it at all.

“I’ll be back in half an hour tops”. He said as he pedalled out onto the road and immediately felt a weight lifted from his soul. He reached into his bag and flicked off his phone and rode into the deepening dusk.

He rode on for about an hour till he came across a small cantina. After a short chat with the proprietor, Fred set up his tent next to his kitchen and slept a quiet night of freedom. After a huge breakfast he set off to put as much distance between him and Tina as possible. It was midday when he finally switched on his phone and found a rash of missed calls, DM’s and such. All from Tina. He blocked her number and unfollowed all her social media accounts. Free of her as he was, his time with her had left a mark.

As a kid, a wise man once told Fred: “You cannot unknow something you now know”. He’d always taken this as a positive thing, he had even internalised it to justify his nomadic life. It was his way to become wise and intelligent. But those lonely roads, soaked in so much beauty that you sometimes forget to look, have a way of luring you to over analyse life. What Tina had taught him, took on a vague malefic quality he was not sure was good for him to know.

That night around the fire when Tina exposed the inner workings of the world of social media, nagged him to no end. It focused a harsh light onto his wayward existence. Fred had given virtually no thought to the end of his road, but he knew that one day, the road would end for him and Wylma. The day after, is what terrified him now.

The stunning ride down the coast to Puerto Escondido was a tainted dream. Tainted by his future. A future that had suddenly come into focus like riding off an unseen cliff, seeing the edge too late to stop.

A day of rest was what he needed, so he took a cheap room and headed out to explore town. A large electronics retailer caught his eye. He had come to the conclusion some days ago that if he were to try to build his day after cushion on social media, it would all start with a camera. Tina had gone into detail about the pros and cons of different models, so he had a pretty good idea of where to start. Half an hour later, and a lot poorer, he had his camera and began following Tina’s condensed playbook.

Three months later Fred was sitting on a beach in Cancun, camera in hand, filming himself with a cocktail. His online following was growing rapidly, and he could feel the drug of popularity course through him. Money had begun to trickle toward him as well. Now he questioned if he could control the beast within, the monster he had now set free. Oh the irony.