The Ride

Tonight's Episode

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Roger liked his new bike. A standard setup with a lowered seat and a stretched frame is so comfy and stable. He hadn’t had a motorcycle for a few years. He loved traveling on two wheels. He stood with his cup of coffee, admiring it. Talk about a cruise.

It’s fresh to him, just dropped off in his driveway. He cannot wait to break himself into it. It’s a key start, but he rejects that luxury. He turns the ignition on and jacks the kicker instead. One kick primes the pump; the second one does the trick.

He doesn’t like it all loud and ambient. It’s a low, hearty rumble. He revels in the sound as he eases into full throttle in neutral.

Rolling easily down his long driveway, he surveys the areas around him. He’s so into it. He enters the road, turning left toward the state highway. There’s his neighbor. He waves, figuring his neighbor has no idea who he is, all covered from head to toe and with a helmet.

He turns right onto the highway, and his heart jumps. Opening it up and shifting three times, he makes the speed limit in about 10 seconds. This is what he remembers. The heightened senses. It’s just him and the road, really. Two feet below his body is blacktop. There’s something about it that wakes him up.

He sees more clearly, he hears more acutely, he feels everything. That’s the thing. After a few minutes he’s attuned to the road. He sees the cars and trucks before they see him. He can see every bird for miles. He feels every pebble he rolls over. His eyes are focused ahead, but with every glance to his mirrors, he’s aware of what’s behind him as well.

There’s a caterpillar on the road ahead of him at about 400 feet. A slight adjustment avoids it. A divot in the road; averted by an eighth of a mile.

He’s ascending a hill now, and as he reaches the top, he’s acclimated enough to take in the view. Pastures and farms. Ranches and barns as far as the eye can see. The mountains to the northeast and the ones to the west. Way off in the distance, the big city Roger has no interest in.

He has open road for at least 7 miles. From here he can see the entrances to driveways and dirt roads. It’s all mapped out before he even makes his descent. Roger idles down the hill, letting some speed pick up as the cooler air at the bottom of the hill breaches his neck, sleeves, and pant legs. That’s the perks.

At the top of the next hill, he makes a left turn onto a little-known dusty single-lane road. He winds and climbs to a lookout. He can see it all. He takes off his helmet and gloves and takes it all in. He can see where he’s going, and where he’s been. There’s the state road he was on, there’s the little intersection he calls his town, there are the mountains, and… just back about 20 miles… his home.

524 Words

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31 brand-new stories written & podcasted in 31 days