As he stood in line waiting for his order to be taken, Jack couldn’t help feeling frustrated about the day. Just an hour ago, his boss was getting on his ass about some mundane chore he had not completed. His wife had called him halfway through the day bitchin about money. His ride to work that morning was almost perilous as he missed a doe standing in his lane as he rounded a corner. And now here he is standing in line at the cafeteria where he attends night school, awaiting this slow ass kitchen to finally take his order. To top things off, he has to struggle through another test tonight as he didn’t get to study like he needed to because he has either been working or trying to spend time with his wife and children. Days like today seem to never end.
“Excuse me,” the young man said as he lightly tapped Jack’s shoulder from behind. “I was wondering if you drive a motorcycle.”
Figuring this to be another dork asking him a silly ass question followed by every excuse why he doesn’t have one, Jack snapped rather impatiently,
“What’s it to ya, kid?”
“I was just going to tell you, if that’s your motorcycle outside, there are some dudes sitting on it and….”
Jack didn’t hear the rest of the worms snivel as he was already making a beeline for his bike. This is exactly why he rode right tot the door of every building he entered at the school. Everyone around campus had seen him drive up every night around 5:30 p.m. and leaving around 9:45 p.m. This has been his schedule the past two years and the campus knew it. The security gave him shit for a short time that first semester, but they eventually eased back. Now they just nodded with a glare as he rode in every night. Wonder where all this “helpful” security is now?
As Jack rounded the corner he saw them. Two young kids, maybe 19 years old, surrounded by several young girls as they told of how they were out riding this past weekend. In what passed as minutes to jack probably lasted a mere 2 seconds.
“Yeah, I rode this hawg down the strand this past weekend and all the other bikers knew who was boss,” chirped the dead man sitting on his baby with his dickbeaters sliming up the handgrips. He was selling his line hard and these little yuppie dorks were buying it all.
Jack quickly grabbed the wanna-[be by the scruff of his shirt and flung him off the bike. As he did this the slimy follower hanging with him stepped in,
“Hey man, what’s the big….” SMACK!
He was greeted with a backhand across the mouth. Jack knew through his years that it was better to act with action first in this kind of situation, words could be arranged later. You see, it usually comes down to instincts when you have to defend yourself on the streets. All the training in the world won’t help you one bit if you hesitate. Jack had seen more than one guy get beat down by someone of lesser skill end size just due to the simple instinct of hesitation. When you ride a Harley everywhere you go, hesitation cannot be a part of your life.
“What are you doin on my baby, son?” Jack asked.
“I…..I…I….,” the puke said while tryin to figure out what was going on.
By now, there was a small crowd gathering, as curious rubberneck bystanders seem to do. Jack was standing there glaring at the one punk as the other little puke was on the ground holding his mouth.
“Don’t you know you could get killed sitting on another man’s ride?” asked Jack. He was half trying to school the kids while still making an example of them to the rest of these preppies.
“I…I…I’m ss…ss..sorry,” was all they could both mutter.
Jack knew he had made his point. He just glared at the rest of the crowd and stated,
“Anyone else want to touch my bike?”
Of course no one said anything as everyone seemed shocked. Jack helped the young man off the ground and then did the same for his puke friend.
“You kids should get off to class and learn to keep your hands off other people’s property.” The Campus copper was standing off to the side. No one knew exactly how long he had been standing there, but everyone seemed surprised when he had spoken up.
The kids all started to dissipate and Jack just looked in the direction of the officer to see what porky would do. With a reciprocal nod, they both went their separate ways. Now he was late for class, so jack skipped the cafeteria and headed to science building.
9:40 seemed to take forever to click. The test was a conglomeration of stereo instruction type questions, followed by the resonating sound of the instructor’s cooking timer clicking away on his desk. Jack was a little impatient to go outside because he was absolutely sure one of the cowards in the crowd would test him by messing with his bike. He was already pissed before he left class in anticipation of the worst.
When he walked around the corner, his bike sat just like he had left her. Even though he had her two years, he still loved the sight of her. Most thought he would grow tired of the “biker” lifestyle after a couple of years. He remembers family and friends telling him how crazy he was and how he would regret riding a motorcycle once it rained or when the winter came. Well, that was over two years and going on three winters now. Jack didn’t care what they thought. He had always done what everyone expected him to do, until two years ago. He can still remember the handshake at the dealership he bought the bike from. He remembered driving her for the first time in the skin piercing 48-degree rain. Looking back on the many nights he would start tinkering with her at 7 at night on Sunday, and not finish till 3 am Monday just in time to go to work. He was definitely no Billy Lane or Jesse James, but he rode his creation every day. Almost every day, he would decide to change something else about her.
“You are crazy!”, was the most common response from family.
“That’s a 100th Anniversary edition, if you change it, it won’t be worth as much.”, was another splurge.
Jack heard it all. No one understood. He didn’t buy the bike for an investment. He had no intention of selling it. Most of all, he didn’t like the look of a stock fatboy, but it had a good enough base for him to start. Every day the bike started to grow into more and more a piece of him. She was almost an attachment of his body. After a long day like today, he still got excited about the one thing that made it all go away, the ride.
As he started her up, the initial backfire resonated through the halls of the campus. He loved that first bang. She did that ever since he pulled the baffles out of the aftermarket pipes. He took it as her good morning yawn. While the bike was warming up, he donned the backpack he carried for his books. He systematically, put on the glasses and then his skid lid. As much as he would love to ride helmet free, he had promised his little girl he would wear one for her. Undoubtedly a trick her mother put her up to, but he didn’t mind too much. As he mounted her, he felt a sense of oneness that was missing for the last 4 hours. He felt almost as if he was MEANT to be doing this. Clicking her into first, Jack slowly eased out of the parking lot letting his baby lope into a warmth she needed before he could get on her.
Jack loved the initial feel of getting the bike rolling. He would usually continue on Decker towards I-10, and continue to the beltway. Tonight would be different. Tonight he would take the 146 to the loop and catch US 59 on the backside. Normally his trip home would take 40 minutes, but tonight he was looking at about twice that. This little excursion was 45 miles of added course. Also, the north side of 59 is like a skate park at this time of night so he could open her up.
It always seemed strange to Jack how the bike acted when he first got her on the freeway. He noticed if he rode here conservatively and switched through the gears at a quicker pace, the bike seemed to struggle above 80. She just seemed to hit a wall and seemed to be struggling. On the other hand, if he opened her up wrapping through each gear as hard as he could and switching gears at the last possible second, she seemed to fly. Funny how a motorcycle becomes smoother the faster she is driven. By the time Jack looked down and realized he was tapping the 110 on his speedometer, he let off and coasted a few feet. Now he could hardly keep her below 85. The bike seemed starved for feed, and who was Jack to deprive her? He opened her back up and began sweeping in and out of the lifeless cages that seemed to be standing still on the freeway. His exit approached in the midst of his ecstasy, so Jack passed it and decided to take his trip a little further up the tarmac. There was nothing like gliding over the asphalt on your bike. No thoughts of work, or school, or a mortgage. No kids yelling or wives bitchin. No thoughts of anything other than the road ahead. Jack exited a few exits from his normal route and decided to take the scenic route home. He had plenty of woods and twisties approaching the house his wife and him had just paid their life savings to have built.
As Jack entered the garage and turned the beauty off, he noticed a note on the door leading into the house.
“Dinner is in the oven. There are two cold beers in the fridge and your clothes are laid over the recliner. Go take a shower and relax. Kiss the kids before you are ready for bed and wake me up when you are ready for some ME time. My Love Always, Me.”
Some days seem to drag on forever. This day was one of those. Long day at work compounded with a longer night at school. Thanking God for the mind clearing rides he gets to take, jack smiles as he takes off his gear. He looks at the note and smiles because of what awaits him inside. He may never be a millionaire. He may never walk down the street hearing people whisper his name in awe and admiration. But days like this remind him, he has more than he could ever need. He lives a life few ever realize. Yes, some days are better than others. Today ended up being one of the best.
Till The Next Day…
