The biker

Reads: 487  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story about two people in search of each other and neither is aware of this fact. They have one thing in common; riding motorcycles.

Submitted: June 22, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 22, 2013

A A A

A A A


John looked at his phone for the weather.  He always did that before taking out his beloved pan-head.  He loved that bike more than anything or anyone.  The mobile weather app on his phone said all was fine to take his pride and joy out for a spin in the neighborhood.  He always loved the sounds and smells that accompanied the first attempted starts.  He never added a starter to the bike.  That would cheapen the experience, he thought. 

There were a few times that he was almost thrown when trying to kick-start the big v-twin.  This time was not one of them and it started after only three kicks.  Some bluish smoke and wonderful sound emoted from the straight pipes.  He loved that sound as he breathed in some of the exhaust.  He always longed for these moments while at the office.  This was his time and no one else's.  He was a biker for the next few hours.  Although he had all the modern conveniences and gadgets that every successful person needs in today's world, he made sure to hide them from view.

He wanted to give the world a view of him as a biker; complete with cutoff tee shirt showing the tattoos of his youth and the personal trainer inspired arms that only someone with his kind of money and time could manage.  The scruffy chin and side burns completed the appearance.  He was ready to ride out into the world playing the part of a free spirit with no cares or concerns.  And for the moment it was true.  The day was nice, the bike was rumbling that wonderful sound, and he felt like a biker god.

Mr Thomas J.and Mrs. Simone Marie Kilcallin were married in September of 1963.  They gave birth to a son in December of that same year.  They named him John James.  John for her father and James for his grandfather.  Simone was very strong willed in her convictions and of her protection of her son's individuality.  She did not want John to be like his father.  That doesn't mean she didn't love Thomas or Thomas's family money; she did very much.  However, she saw how Thomas's family emasculated their men.She thought that a man should be allowed to grow and explore as long as there was a woman to temper those urges.  She was a strong believer that men and women had their natural roles which should not be screwed with by intellectuals and more liberal in today's society. 

Turning men into women as society and school would have you believe is right takes the purpose in life away from the man. This was her life philosophy.  Let a strong woman lead a strong man from behind the scenes.  Let her give her man a purpose for getting up every day, for coming home every night, for existing.  Although she loved Thomas, she looked at him as a carbon copy of his father.  Like a Xeroxed piece of paper that has been copied too many times.  The general look and feel is still there but the crisp lines and clear text were blurred by too many copies.  The bright text and ghost white paper are marred by too many imperfections in the glass causing streaks in the paper.  Nothing commanding or impressive.  Just adequate to the task.  That was Thomas, although she did not know this until his younger days were behind him and the cocky bravado was replaced with indecision and self-doubt.

Thomas was not the patriarch of the family, nor would he ever be.  Too many years of father and grand-father control has made him hesitant and unsure.  Sure he has the genes of a Kilcallin, but the mind of a lessor man.  She would make sure John would be stronger than his father.

To be honest it was not his mind that attracted Simone to give Thomas a second glance. It was his powerful shoulders and tight butt!  She still smiles thinking about the younger Thomas and how he could look at her that certain way that made her want to be bent over the nearest chair or table.

He was an impressive sight.  She did not think of herself as a social climber, but that is what she was.  Her beliefs about the purpose of man and woman in society lead her to only consider men who were confident and commanding or wealthy or both.  With Thomas, she found wealth to be a nice and agreeable compromise to his lack of ego and presence.

John enrolled in the service after high school at her urging. She cultivated this romantic notion of a man, her man, in uniform.  He went through basic training with an ease that he went through most things in his life.  There was little effort required because he was physically fit, tall and smart. He made an impressive soldier while he was in enlisted.  He served one term.  He was lucky enough to join shortly after the first Gulf War and was discharged before the second.

He made a few friends while stationed in Korea and then Germany.  They did not fit into his schedule and he soon lost track of them after his discharge.  The memories of the service were strengthened by the tattoos that decorate his upper arms.  On one arm was of the eagle and talons and on the other was the image of a unearthly soldier with the words "Beloved Soldier and Son".  These tattoos were a great source of pride to him that he never would admit or share.  He felt manlier because he had them and was determined to keep himself in shape to keep his arms exposed to show them off. 

When he got out, he enrolled in college and found this time very appealing to his ego.  He was an impressive figure that stood nearly 6 foot 5 with a military presence.  He was very popular with the student body.  Especially the curvier of those students’ bodies! He bedded more coeds than he would have thought possible.  More often than not, a different girl would accompany him home during weekends or holidays.  Simone was actually strangely proud of her son's sexual exploits.  She thought there must be something more to him for all these girls to be so infatuated with him.  She thought he was more of a man than his father.

Despite his many exploits he received good grades with distinction and was asked to speak at the graduation ceremony.  What he did not know, was that he was chosen more because of his family rather than the talent or drive he possessed.  Again, her mother had something to do with this.  She felt that John would be better positioned in his professional life if his performances and experiences were displayed for all to see.

Shortly after college, John received an internship at a local company.  It was here that John met his match; named Jo.  Soon she would be his steady girlfriend.  She was different from the other girls he bedded during school.  She was serious and controlled in addition to being beautiful.  He would later find her controlling nature also included him.  At this point in his life, he allowed it.  She took care of him.  He decided to propose, thinking his mother would approve and brought her to the family home to meet her.

Simone was proven right at this first meeting; John was not Thomas's or Arthur's facsimile, he was Simone's son.  A mamma's boy who had original thoughts and strong believes, too bad they were hers. 

She did not realize how her version of strong parenting would affect John until he brought home this vision who was a mirror image of herself, twenty years her junior.  She immediately hated Jo because she gave that same contemptuous glare to her that she had given to Thomas's mother years earlier.

What a dilemma she had helped to create.  How would she fix this?  How would her legacy be secured in her son?  As if she had some foretelling of her early death, she began the laborious task of keeping a daily diary.  Over the years, she had thoughts of keeping one for posterity, but now it took a more determined place in her thoughts.  She believed she could explain to him about his upbringing and why he did and thought the things he did.  She would also give her son insights into the family business and to give him a heads up to where all the skeletons were buried.  She hoped to justify her decisions and in some way also hoped he would forgive her for any pain this may cause him.  This determination to air her feelings and family failings soon became cathartic for her but ultimately disastrous for him. Or so he would soon believe.

It was after her death that John found her diary and read all about her mistakes and apologies to him about what she wanted for him and his life.  He was also privy to his family dealings.  It was hard for John to see his mother in this new imperfect light.  He was angry that his life was one big manipulation of his now deceased formerly 'beloved' mother.  Depression set in about six months after her death.  He was thirty-six, married and the father of two boys.  He had a life that many would be envious of.  He had his own business that his family, through his mother, had invested in.  The business was finally showing signs of success after years of hard work.

He had a gorgeous wife that was the spitting image of his mother.  She controlled and ran the house with a ruthless efficiency that allowed him to spend the time he needed to grow his business.  She was the perfect wife and mother.  He now hated her.  He hated everything about her.  He still had sex with her, because he still had needs, however that was the extent of their connection.  She had always been good in bed.  This was something that he often wondered about regarding his mother.  As creepy was it was, they were so similar that he could only wonder about the debauchery his mother was capable of in the bedroom.  Such are the thoughts of every man; he thought.  His thoughts about sex had no boundaries.  At least not that he would admit.

The moments with his wife took a darker and more sadistic turn especially in the bedroom.  Was he getting back at his mother?  Was he now having sex with his mother?  Those sweaty gasping moments of uncensored words and uninhibited movements with the grunts and slapping were becoming more aggressive.  At first his wife liked it.  She thought this ‘role-playing’ was a nice departure from the typical ‘wham bam thank you ma'am’ she was used to.  This feeling did not last long as he started to get abusive with his language and started slapping her when she did not do what he commanded.

This side of him was not what she was ready for.  He had always been very predictable around her.  He was manageable because she made his life structured and safe.  This new side was not predictable nor was it controllable.  When his mother died she thought the mother’s control over her son and their lives was over.  Little did she know what ‘That Bitch’ was capable of from the grave. 

It was some months after the funeral that she discovered why he was on a downward spiral.  Her first thoughts were that the void which was created by Simone's death was consuming him.  She could not have been further from the truth.She found the diary while cleaning up his playroom before they invited over some of their friends for the annual first pitch in the start of the new baseball season.

His playroom was his and his alone.  It filled most of the basement in the house. A small utility room for the furnace and other water and well pumps, and a bathroom were the only other areas that occupied the same floor.  He had multiple big screen televisions on three of the four walls with a couch and chairs on the other.  In the center was a large coffee/game table.  The walls below the big screen TV's we lined with bar style wall mounted butcher-block counters and under that were three or four stainless steel bar stools with swivel seats.  This was a sports bar without the bar within his home.  He loved this room.  He designed this room and no one was allowed to use it unless they asked him.  She allowed this.  Boys will be boys, she thought when he said he wanted to build the room.

He originally wanted a small bar as well, complete with a mirror and beer on tap, but that is where she put her foot down.  The extra expense of the plumbing and all that went with it was too much for her.  He eventually relented, but added a spigot into the pantry off the kitchen.  He had the carpenter add a small alcove with a door and lock so the kids would not have access when he and his wife weren't home.

It was her cleaning that lead her to the diary.  She had not been in the playroom for weeks, so she felt it should have a once over before their friends came over.  It was that and she saw John's decent into himself and wanted to clean the room from his depressing decor of pizza boxes and empty soda and beer cans that she knew were collecting in the corner of the room.

The diary was pushed down into the seat cushion on the left side of the large couch.  She didn't know if he was trying to hide it, but he had just left it here where anyone could have seen it other than him.  She had ten, maybe fifteen minutes to look at it before he came home from the store with supplies for the party.  The pages were well worn from the reading and notes he scribbled in the margins.  In the time she had to view the pages she could not decipher his notes.  The mother’s hand writing was more legible but still hard to read in long hand.

As the SUV pulled into the driveway she replaced the book where it was last placed in the same way she found it.  Her brief glance at its contents gave her a chill. She did not want him to find out she knew of its existence.  She was back out in the kitchen with the boxes and cans before he came in the house. 

He looked at the pile of boxes on his way in from the garage and was immediately worried she may have come across the diary or would give him grief for keeping the room in such an unclean condition.  He asked why she had felt the need to clean the playroom, anyway.  He know that she wanted to make sure his friends were not surprised at its lack of cleanliness. 

His voice was cold as he started to say “I told you I would clean the playroom when I got back before they arrive. Was I gone that long?"

"No you weren't" she replied in that same cold voice.  “I was collecting all the trash to put in the garage and thought I would check since I have not been in the room for weeks.  You have not been the most fastidious of people for the last few months and I thought I would help."

"Thank you", was all he managed as he went into the playroom in search of the diary.  It was there where he left it, but something was not right.  Normally he was not a paranoid person, but all the recent revelations had made him question everyone and everything.

He looked out the playroom door and grimaced.  She had seen it.  He knew it.  He was at the store for maybe twenty minutes, but he knew she had seen it.  He would have to keep it on him or in a protected location.  This was his past and the information contained within its pages were for his eyes only.  “That Bitch!” he hissed.

He earlier had debated scanning it into an electronic format which would allow him to keep it on his tablet or phone; but decided against it.  Now he regretted that decision.  The family information alone and the indiscretions carried out by the men in his family were enough to warrant the level of anger he had that she had seen it.  The items about his mother’s incessant need to be right and think twenty steps ahead of everyone else was annoying and he would rather that not be viewed either.

It is unfortunate that he now felt that his beloved wife was in a category of untrustworthy. He could no longer tell the difference between his current feelings and those long ago feelings that made him fall in love with her.  His mother and that damn diary clouded his thinking.  That other older matriarchal bitch that was my mother; damn her!  She did this.  She made him feel this. 

He was starting to loath some of the things he used to enjoy.  Typical and predictable activities held no interest for him any longer.  He was not sure what he wanted to do with his time now that he discovered these new feelings.  What would occupy his time and make him feel fulfilled.  Did he have interests that his mother tried to dissuade him from pursuing?

At thirty-six, he decided to rebel.  It was a little late in his life, but he always wanted a motorcycle.  While growing up he remembered seeing bikers riding by his childhood home.  These men with their scruffy beards and tattoos, some with leather chaps and other with leather vests.  Bikes that looked older than time itself and sounding like what hell would sound like if hell were recorded.  The people he saw reacted to those guys on motorcycles.  They were not invisible.  They were in your face and demanding that you pay attention.  Whether it was the giggling high school girls who wanted to be noticed by them and waved suggestively as they went by or the boys who gawked at the loud two wheeled iron horse machines with the big men sitting astride them.  Everyone had an emotion when they saw those bikers.

This is the feeling he wanted.  The bike would make him feel powerful and complete.  He looked at the local bike shop, but nothing gave him that feeling. He saw Easy Rider magazines on the rack at the local store one day and remembered growing up as a kid looking at it for the seminude biker girls and the stories about the free spirits that rode their Pan Head's and rat bikes to glory. It did not take long to remember that term Pan Head referred to the beautiful engine type that earlier Harley's were powered by.  That is what he wanted. Something that other ‘real’ bikers would see and respect.  He had the money and would find one. 

The search took six months, but he finally found his bike online.  Thirty-five thousand dollars later, he brought home his new pride and joy. He picked up another smaller bike that he would use to learn how to ride and become comfortable before moving to the powerful Harley. 

His wife was livid about the new direction his interests had taken.  “Why on earth would you spend that kind of money on a toy?!”  She growled when he first told her.

 "Fine", he said; "it is that or a new Porsche turbo convertible.  That’s only one hundred ten thousand dollars.  I'm getting older", he said," I work very hard and we have the money." 

He gave her the ultimatum and said, "It's the bike or the car". 

She obviously allowed the bike.  Well, she didn't allow anything but she was less cranky about the bike when the alternative was something three times more expensive.  The love of his life became a machine.  He doted on it.  Came home from work to polish it and just sit on it.  This was freedom on two wheels.  Why did I deny myself this before now?  He thought. He spent the next year learning to ride the bike.  He spent a lot of time learning the maneuvering limitations of motorcycles.  He enjoyed this time.  Since riding was new for him, he did not allow anyone on the back with him.  He was alone and no one told him to do anything that he did not want to do.  His wife never asked to ride with him and he did not offer.  His boys were different.  He promised that he would take them for rides when he was more confident, but his wife was always against it.  Eventually they stopped asking and he knew she won.  Bitch!  So be it, he thought. 

Every weekend he took out his new love.  He would spend hours exploring and learning routes to the best long winding curves in the county and surrounding countryside.  Thousands of miles were spent on these roads.  What fun it was.As the years passed, the only constant was his love of riding and the bike he rode and maintained with meticulous detail. 

The business man turned biker god looked over his shoulder back at the house that he worked so hard to build and furnish.  He did not see his wife standing at the kitchen window starting out at him, but he could feel her gaze.  Nothing was the same anymore, but he was determined to enjoy his ride today. 

He pulled out of the drive onto the street and headed towards the valley for some long winding roads.  He looked ahead with the sun showing through the clouds and trees.  The rumble of the engine, the feel of the seat and reach of his gloved hands on the grips all completed the perfect feeling of control and freedom over his surroundings.  He wore a skull cap style helmet that covered his head, but kept his ears and face exposed to the elements.  The crash protection it offered was the minimum required by current laws.  That was not his concern when looks and feel took priority.  His ears were free to listen to all the sounds around him as the scenery rolled by in a glorious blend of summer colors.

What could I possibly be worried about on a day like this? He thought.  This road absorbed many of the hours he spent in the saddle over the past ten years.  Today was no different with one exception; he needed to figure out what to do with his life with or without his wife.  His life has gone in an uncharted direction after the death of his mother and the realization of her manipulations in his upbringing. For the first time, without a plan or the confidence that he felt when he was younger, he needed to do something different with the remainder of the time available.  He knew he was experiencing a sort of middle aged depression that comes with a man seeing his mortality. His current therapist and his wife have told him this fact on numerous occasions.  Whom did he want to take on this ride through the remainder of his life?  That was the most pressing question he wanted to answer.

My business was mine, he thought.  Jo had been there from the beginning but had nothing to do with how it was run it or how it became successful.  The people employed by him are like his extended family.  They handle the day to day decisions which allowed him to take the company to new heights.He was not about to let this part of his life go in the event of a divorce.  This would be a fight he would win.  The house on the other hand would not be a battle worth fighting. 

 He loved the home he built with his wife.He especially loved his damned playroom, but that can be all replaced, he reasoned.  Besides, if there is a divorce she will ask for the house in the settlement.  She can have it.  All I need is my bike and my business, he thought. 

The bike started to buck and lose power as he was brought back to the moment. He reached down to switch the fuel cock to the reserve position before the bike went into a full stall.  It bucked and hesitated for a few moments more before fresh fuel started flowing again through the carburetor and the power evened out.  He needed to stop soon and knew there was a gas station a few miles ahead at where he could get some coffee and fill the tank.  The station was not busy as he pulled in.  A lot of people were riding and driving today, but it was not the time of day for many of the day travelers to stop and refill their stomachs and tanks.

One vehicle that made him look twice was an all pink Harley parked at the edge of the blacktop by a shade tree opposite the pumps and main building.  No one was around the bike, but this peaked his curiosity about who its rider may be. 

He pulled up to the pump with a slow steady practiced approach.  Every slow speed maneuver was practiced over the years for perfection.  There is nothing worse than riding a bike and looking stupid and clueless in the process.His biker god persona was intact.

Riding a bike and making it look easy and carefree has always been important.  He wanted anyone who took the time to look to see a confident capable rider.  His foot found the kickstand which he flipped out before leaning the bike and dismounting.  He looked up as he leaned the bike and saw her.  She was dressed in all leather.  Tight white leather that left nothing to the imagination.  She glanced over as she moved towards her ride.  How do women walk like that? It was a walk that gave every man looking an instant hard-on and a reason to have some quality alone time.

He found himself staring but didn't care.  She was an event that he did not want to miss.  He remembered having conversations with his sons about a pretty girl that they may be interested in and calling her ‘fun to look at’.  This woman wasn't just fun, she was required reading for all men who wanted to observe female perfection in motion.

He maintained his reason for stopping and pumped the gas to fill my tank before going in to get some coffee.  Should he fill up quickly and follow her? He asked himself.  He decided against it.  She barely noticed him on her way to her bike.  The last thing he wanted was to be shot down while he was in the zone of the perfect ride.  He gave her a glance to see which direction she was riding as she left and would make sure to follow that route after he finished.

What does a woman like that do?  Why did she want to draw attention to herself like that when she would awe all men without the bike or leather?  That thought angered him.  Why couldn't he have found her all those years ago?  He could be leaving with her on their own ride together.  The envy of everyone who took the time to look at them.  Oh well.  Ken and Barbie was not meant to be.

The coffee was good today, he thought and savored it while sitting on the grass leaning against the tree closest to the bike.  He enjoyed this off saddle time when all that mattered was where he had come from and where he was headed.  Nothing else mattered.  No schedule to keep and no one to meet.  Those days he went riding with the gang were nice, but these were nicer.  No one to worry about and no putting on airs or waiting for the inevitable late bathroom break or phone call that delayed everyone's ride.

This was his ride to enjoy.  It took years of riding before time and destination became secondary to the journey.  The entire time he was in the saddle or stopped for a break, like now, was the journey.  Where he ended up was not important.  This was one of those rides.

A family pulled up to the pumps and the SUV doors flew open with everyone ejecting themselves from the doors in record time.  The dad, he assumed, stayed with the vehicle and pumped the gas while the rest of the family laughed and whined and hurried into the station for a bathroom, food, all of the above break.

That man used to be him.  Not too long ago, his kids and wife were those people and he was the one who stayed with the car.  Those times were enjoyable....to a point.  He missed those moments when thoughts of his kids and how much they have grown came to mind.  This family had both boys and girls.  He wondered what it would be like with a daughter instead of two boys.  What would his mother have been like?  That bitch!  It amazed him that his anger was still so close to the surface after all these years.

The coffee was getting cold and it was time to be on his way.  Mosey on down the road on his iron horse.  Yea, he would have liked the old west; at least the parts that looked cool in the westerns he saw on television.  Don’t know about the whole outhouse thing, though.  He got up slowly with the aches that have become more frequent when his body stayed in the same position for too long.  While in mid-stretch he looked over to see the family coming out of the store.  That "dad" apparently didn't need to do anything inside.  He was sitting in the vehicle waiting.

He saw the mother or wife as she came up behind the kids towards her vehicle. She looked over while he was looking at her.  She gave a slight smile and looked down before moving to get into the car.  As neurotic as he could be, John was not immune to the fact that he was an imposing figure.  That was part of the fun and he used this many times in his youth, but less so now that he was older.  What was going through her mind now?  She was wondering what it would be like to be the big biker’s  Ol' Lady dressed in too tight jeans and a leather vest that covered her naked upper body.  Looking at her, she would definitely fill out that vest, hmm-mm.

Nice visual.  What was it that his sons were fond of saying? She was a MILF.  That was appropriate and very appealing thought.  Two hard-on's in less than twenty minutes.  This was interesting and stimulating day.

The boots he wore gave him a sauntering walk that would have also worked with spurs as he moved slowly over to the bike before his practiced slow mount of the bike completed the image.  Perfect, he thought, it was a good mount.  I looked back at the family to see if the MILF saw it, but they had already pulled out of the station in the opposite direction to Barbie.  She saw it.  I know she did.

One part of the biker persona that went hand in hand with the clothes and the tattoos was the kick start of this bike.  This was the one part that still brought fear to his mind in public.  As beautiful as the engine is it is still over forty years old.  It was almost as old as he was.  Patience and caution were the when starting this beast.  Fortunately, a warm engine was easier to start then a cold one.  Usually my rides were short enough between starts that any attempted starts during a ride out in public were to a warm engine.  This was the case today.

Two kicks got the bike rumbling.  He adjusted his helmet and glasses, tightened his riding gloves and looked from left to right before moving.An efficient pull on the clutch along with a decisive click of his left foot put the bike into first gear.  He revved the engine before releasing the clutch.  God that was a powerful sound, he thought as the bike lurched slightly before the gear was fully engaged.  His feet floated just above the ground as the bike moved over the uneven open dirt parking area.  He pulled up to the road and motioned in the direction he intended on going.  He had an efficient process for the hand signals he was required this use.  This bike, pretty as it is, even with a biker god in the saddle, was virtually invisible to any cage driver not looking for it.  He did not want to make his intentions any less clear since the bike did not have turn signals either.  Was he nuts?  No, he was a god.  Gods don't get hurt.  At least they don't look like they should.  Either way, he signaled he was turning in the direction of Barbie.  We are on a first name basis, he mused.  Yeah right.

It had been two hours since he left the house. He should be getting on with his ride so he can get back and not get any shit from Jo.  Not that he cared if she gave any at this point; he just hated to see the faces of the boys when she came down on him.  Bitch.

Well Jo, he thought,  I am off to chase the woman of my dreams.  Didn't think I was capable of that, did you Jo?  I bet she would like my playroom, huh Jo?.  Yea, we would play! He smiled.  He know the truth was less appealing.  He would never see her again except in some quality alone time that he planned on taking after he got home. Such is life.

Part 2

Kelly finished basic training during the first gulf war and went on to become an army medic.  Her family were all successful doctors and she was pressured to go to medical school and follow in her parents and siblings footsteps.  She smiles when she thinks back too the time she told her father she was enlisting in the military.  They didn't talk for two years.  It was interesting because they had been so close.  She always thought she was her father’s daughter and he had her back, but realized it was only as long as she went along with his wishes.  Ironic was the word considering he and her mom raised her to be a strong willed powerful girl that was capable of achieving whatever she put her heart and mind into.

She went on to serve during the second Gulf War and stayed in the service after.  Twenty years came and went.  She decided after getting her medical degree while in the service and rising to the rank of Colonel that she was ready for a change.  She certainly did not have an easy time being a natural blonde with a body that looked more secure modelling swimsuits than running out onto a battlefield performing duties as a medic.

She endured years of harassment and eventually took steps and training to learn and achieve a black belt in jujitsu.  Men soon realized that she was not just a pretty face, but one that could also kick their ass should they get out of line.

Twenty years is a long time to be with the same employer, but she had so many different roles in numerous locations that she never tired of it.  Now passing her forth decade, she realized her lifestyle and daredevil nature was not going to help her if she wanted to settle down.As the twenty years approached she made the decision to call it a career and take her leave of the only place she had known for most of her adult life.  Her mother had passed away a couple of years ago and her dad was living alone in her large childhood home.  He had hoped she would come to stay with him for a time until she got on her feet and decided where she wanted to live.

She interviewed with many major trauma centers as a traumatic injury specialist given her years and battlefield experience.  She decided to go into a different direction and took the rains as the head emergency room physician at a smaller regional health center near where her father lived.

She and her father had long ago buried their differences and were closer now than they had ever been.  She never knew the depth of his pride for his hero daughter.  When she came to stay after getting out, she found her father had created an apartment inside his home.  He explained it was for her to have her own space and not feel obligated see him if she did not want to. 

It was nice that he understood her fierce independence and need for space, but she knew that separation from people would not work if she were to start the second part of her life as an ordinary civilian.  She spent most of her time while at the house in the parts of the house where her father lived.  She did however like it on those late nights she came home from work.  She cocooned herself in her area and did not worry about waking her dad.  He was not getting any younger and she made sure he was taking care of himself and getting all the sleep he needed.

There was one surprise for her that he would not show her for the first few days.  He figured there were too many things happening and it would not be given the full attention it deserved.

While on her last deployment to Afghanistan, she had asked her father to take possession of her pride and joy; a 2003 Harley Dyna Low Rider.  She bought this brand new off the floor six months before being deployed for the second Gulf War.  She was able to spend quality time riding this wonderful machine. 

This was the perfect bike because it looked bad-ass, was powerful, and the seat height was more comfortable than other Harley's she had ridden in the past.  Of all the things she hated leaving behind when she shipped out was leaving this bike behind.  Her father had a moving company pick up and deliver the bike to the local Harley dealership where he lived.

While he was talking with the shop owner after the bike was delivered he saw a group of bikers pull into the parking lot outside the main building.  He saw a woman get off an all-white Harley with a matching white helmet and pink leather jacket.  This is when he came up with the idea of surprising his daughter.

After things settled down and Kelly and her father were having a leisurely weekend morning, he asked her to come to the barn behind the house.  He made a show of acting as sullen as he could as he walked out back with her.  She realized that she had not seen her bike since arriving home and felt guilty.  Concern clouded everything, however when her father said he needed to show her something.

Oh god, what had happened when she told him to get her bike for her.  Had it been damaged?  What would she do if it were really damaged?  These thoughts were playing in her head as she continued to walk with her father and pretend to listen to his one-sided conversation.

He stopped at the door and dramatically turned to say that she should brace herself.  What was going on? She looked past him and saw it.  What was she seeing?  It was a motorcycle for sure, but whose?  Just as she was about to say something along the line of ‘you decided to start providing space for Barbie's toys?’ when her father smiled broadly and exclaimed "Surprise"!  Nooooooooo, she thought.  No he didn't. No No No No.  Oh my god NO!

He looked at her face and some concern changed his expression.  "You don't like it?"  he asked.

"Oh Dad, you shouldn't have" was all I could say.  He had taken her pride and joy and turned it into a little girl's doll's high priced accessory.  She was now sport rider Barbie! Oh god!

As she was trying to take this in, she saw something hanging next to the bike near the work bench.  What the hell was that?  It looked like a super hero suit, minus the cape.  An all-white suit.  It looked leather and very bright.  "Wow dad, what is that?" 

"That, honey is your riding suit.  This is the best suit for the money for total body protection." He beamed.

This was worse than my worst fear.  At least if the bike were damaged I could take it to a garage and get it fixed.  I can't get this fixed, she thought.  At least not without really hurting my father's feelings.  As right as he was about the apartment area in the house, he couldn't have been more wrong about this.

How the hell was she going to ride this?  Oh my god!  I know how I look and have worked all my life to prove myself and to have men respect my accomplishments.  This turns me into every man/boys fantasy.  A real-life Barbie biker! She grimaced inwardly trying not to show her dad.

She decided that hurting his feelings was the only course of action. "Dad", she began; "I appreciate the thought and the time you took to make my bike more unique and personal and it is a wonderful thought. Please understand what makes this bike mine is that masculinity of the lines, and chrome, the dark leather.  Please don't be upset.  But I can't ride this.  I have never been a ‘hey look at me’ person". 

He interrupted, "I know you haven't cutie, but that does not change the fact that you were noticed and admired anyway.  You were envied and reviled.  My thought was that you should embrace your gifts and own them.  Don't run from them."

She could think of a million different ways she could have accomplished this goal without this type of coming out party! she thought.  "Thanks, Dad" was all she could muster.

"You should take it for a ride", he said. 

"Maybe later", i said.  Maybe never, I thought.  I finished my coffee while looking over the bike as my father waved and headed back to the house.  The bike had new tires and was polished to a high gloss.  It was also registered and inspected.  For as hideous as the color of the bike was, he made it very easy to just swing a leg over and take it for a ride.  I don't even need to check the tank.  His attention to detail would have left nothing to chance.

She loved him so, but this little gift allowed her to see a side of her father that she had not seen before.  He had always said she was his little girl, but he never done anything to show it.  Maybe he was making up for lost time, she thought, ugh.  She moved over to the bat suit and looked at it more closely.  It was a very nicely made garment.  No doubt it was very expensive.  It was just not her.  But she knew that his feelings about her displeasure with the color of the bike was nothing compared with her not wearing this very loud piece of safety equipment.  If she were going to get on and ride a Pink Harley, then she may as well dress and look the part!  It looked awfully small, though.  She pulled it off the hanger and looked at the tag inside the color.  Sure enough it was her size.  Nothing to chance, she thought grimacing.

Oh well, there was no way around it.  After another cup of coffee she would done her new outfit and go out for the maiden voyage. Barbie meets world!

She went to her room and tried on her new power ranger outfit.  She knew she shouldn't keep making fun of the suit, but how could she take this seriously?  She spent her life trying to blend in.  Her previous career depended on it; literally.  Luckily her own beliefs were in line with this philosophy.  She never dressed to impress.  Men that she had dated while she was in the service said she could have warn a tarp and out shined the other woman around her.  Of course she enjoyed these comments.  Especially as the years went by, but they did little to her change her belief that less is more.  Understated things were more elegant and important than brightly colored showy things. 

That is what floored her the most about this gift from her father.  She learned her values from him.  There was definitely a mellowing of his rigid views after mom died.  She missed her but they were never as close as she was to her father; at least until she decided to piss all over his ideas for her future, she giggled.  Eh, he's strong, he got over it and besides, look at us now.

She was wearing a tank top and shorts which it turned out was all that would or could possibly fit under her power suit.  She felt like a teenager trying to jump and squirm into a brand new pair of too tight jeans.  

Oh My God!  What am I wearing!  I look like my name should be Candy and I'm taking a break between pole dancing gigs downtown! She thought.  There was not a part of her body that did not show its place in this suit.  She looked at herself more slowly.  Hey, you look pretty good, she thought.  Let some of those college interns at the medical center fawning over the new doctors try and get their lazy asses in this get up.  Huh. But really, this is something that she would wear to impress her boyfriend or husband in the bedroom before sex as foreplay!  How would this play in public on a Pink Harley?  She was starting to think it would play pretty good.

Well, if I am letting world know I am available, then what better way would there be than letting it all hang out! hoo-ah!

She came down the stairs and stopped in front of her father who looked up and did a double take.  "Wow" was all he said.  

"Whaaaat" was all I could come back with. 

"You look very fit and trim" was all that he could muster. 

"Fit and trim; I will keep that in mind as I go down the street with little boys mothers covering their eyes while they glare at me!" 

"Yeah, but the fathers will be smiling", he laughed.

"Hey you shouldn't be the one to give me grief", I said.  "You bought this for me".

 "I know“ he said "and I am trying to feel a little guilty about that."  He continued, "You are a gorgeous woman who happens to be my daughter.  You are the light of my life and I am very proud of you and all your accomplishments.  But as your father, it think it is long overdue that you let your hair down and live a little." His eyes were misty as she looked down at him.

He was so sweet, she thought.  "Ok dad, I'll try", she said and leaned down to give him a kiss on the top of his head.  "I'll be back in a few hours."  "Take your time", he said smiling after her as she headed out the front door towards the barn.

She had to admit that she was excited not only at the prospect of riding, but of the looks she was sure to receive. She looked around the yard and into the sky as she walked towards the barn.  It was a beautiful day.  She was determined to have not only a good ride and a good day as well.

Luckily her father thought better of getting her a white or pink helmet.  She put on her black skull cap style helmet and adjusted the sun glasses to fit.  Her hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail that would not get thrashed too badly with the wind.  She could never cut her hair.  She had tried it once, but then had to let it grow out again.  It was the one piece of vanity that she allowed herself.  She settled into the seat and took stock of the gauges and positioning of the grips and controls.  All as she remembered it; only more colorful, she thought wryly.

The bike started easily with that wonderfully powerful starter squeal to the first detonation of the cylinders.  What a perfect sound.  There was very little smoke and it smelled like what she remembered and dreamt of.  He must have started it daily, she thought.  She pulled the clutch and pressed her foot to shift into first with a clunk.

Here we go, she thought, No stopping now, no turning back.  The barn and the doors were big enough for her to ride the bike out, and since they were at the end of a dirt road, she did not worry about stopping and shutting the doors.  She would get grief later and would say that "yes, dad I do live in a barn", but at the moment didn't care.

The ride was slow on the dirt road as she left her driveway.  Luckily the weather had been dry and the dirt road was not squishy or slick.  At the end of her road she looked at which direction she would go first.  Left or right.  That was the extent of her worries.  She remembered the valley was to the right and would be a nice start with winding roads and lots of shading should she need to stop for a break.  There was also a little gas station that she used to stop at after she got her license when she was growing up.  She hadn't been there in years.  Would it still be there?  Who knows?  It's not the destination but the journey she reminded herself as she pulled out onto the main road.

She rode without thinking much of anything as she glided down the road to the outskirts of town.  There was nothing to think.  There was so much stimulation coming from the ride itself that thoughts were not necessary.  She did take some notice of the car drivers who saw her coming towards them and then jerking their heads around as she passed.  You'd think they never saw Barbie on her sport bike before, she chuckled.

Twenty miles passed before she saw the signs for the gas station two miles ahead.  This was a good first distance before stopping on her first ride.  Besides the coffee from earlier had gone right through her.  She pulled into the dirt parking area over towards a tree to the left of the building.  This was a good place to leave her bike that was not in the way of anyone coming or going.  The dirt was uneven, but the bike and her handling of the bike made it easy.  She had always maneuvered bikes with an ease that was unnerving to the guys riding around her.  She was the better rider in most situations and it caused a lot of bruised egos.

She put the bike in neutral and flicked out the stand with her foot.  She allowed the bike to settle into its stand as she dismounted the bike.  She was stiff even after only twenty miles.  She would have to ride every day to get her stamina back.  She sauntered towards the building to use the bathroom and had her share of side and direct glances.  Some were comfortable, but some were not.  A guy from what looked like an million year old pickup was coming out of the store as she was headed in.There was no tact in this man; "holy sheeet!" was all he said as she felt his eyes going places on her body that she made her skin crawl.  She did not look and strode past him through the door.  She did not hear the door close because he held it open for more than a moment to stare as she walked away from him.

There was no fear in her thoughts, only that feeling of exposure that she disliked so much.  She knew that he would be over by her bike when she came out of the bathroom, so she took her time and looked out the window to see his progress in the parking lot.  She picked up a water and casually sipped it after she came out and stayed away from direct view of the window.  Eventually he tired of waiting for her and got into this truck to leave.  She did not care where he was going nor would she have a thought about him ever again.  It was around this time she heard that same familiar rumble of American iron pulling into the station towards the pumps.  He was a big guy she thought.  Boy could this guy try any harder, she thought as she took a sip of water.  He was cute, but definitely had some confidence issues.  She looked back inside as she dropped the empty water in the recycle bin before headed out.

Luckily the counter person was an older woman.  She gave her a more easily accepted disapproving glance as she paid for her water and waited by the window.  Have a nice day, I called as I left.  "You too sweetie" she called after me.Thanks dad, she grumbled to herself as she stepped back outside towards her bike.  She took one more glance in his direction as he made of show of awesomeness while he filled his tank.  I'm 5' 4" on a good day and he has to have a least a foot on me.  Hmmm, a foot huh, God I'm such a Lech!  I thought as I approached my bike.  As hard as he tried, he was still fun to look at.

In a moment, I was moving towards the road feeling his gaze on me.  This gaze was not unappreciated, however, and I probably would remember it.

Part 3

John was thoroughly enjoying this ride.  As many things passed through his mind as he rode, he never lost touch with the feeling of the day and the journey.  The road was clear, the sky was blue, the tank was full, and he was a god!  What more can be said.

Twenty five miles came and went.  Not many oncoming cars and a few motorcycles added to the scenery.  His phone vibrating in his pants but he did not want to stop to see who it was.  I am riding, damn it!, he thought  They haven't made a device yet that would allow a rider to talk while riding unless you had one of the monstrous touring bikes.  I have to admit, I look at those and wonder what it would be like to bring your theme music with you?  How many freaking rider playlists are out there with Bad to the Bone as the main song?  It made him laugh.

Around this next corner I could stop and check my phone, he thought.  He knew there is a pull off.  He thought against it.  He would instead take this corner on a nice lean and impress anyone who was pulled off in their car.  He loved taking corners like this.

He came around the corner doing about fifty five or sixty when he saw her pink Harley parked a distance off the road.  She saw him as well and for a moment their eyes locked.  It was at that moment that Hilda Givens was making a left hand turn into the rest stop.  For a brief moment she looked up to see that there was no oncoming traffic, so she started her long slow turn looking all the time at the rest stop and not the road ahead.

There was no squealing of brakes or horns before he saw her car in front of him. All he could think was "crap!"

Part 4

Twenty five miles; I'm such a light-weight she thought as she came out of the Porta-Potty.  She had vowed to never use those before she joined the service. Now she look on them as absolute necessities and longed for them when there was nothing else around.  These are cleaner than the army's as well.

She heard the down-shift of a Harley as it was coming into the corner before the rest stop. She wondered if it were him. It did not sound like it would be stopping anytime soon, based on the down shift and increase in engine revs. 

She looked up in time to see him start his lean into the corner with a smile on his face.  God he was cute!  He looked over and their eyes met.  Wow, she thought, and then she saw the car start to pull in from the opposite side of the rest stop.  This car was pulling in front of his motorcycle.  Oh shit, he's going down!

She had seen some terrible things in her life dealing with body trauma.  Nothing mangles a body like a high speed collision or an explosion.  She did not have time to pray or hope.  It just happened.  The sound was one she would never forget.  Before he went down, she heard him yell "crap" over all the other sounds.  What a booming voice she thought.

He saw the car at the same time she did.  There was no time for anything.  His first reaction was to apply the brakes which locked up the rear wheel and caused it to slide out to the left under him.  He went down hard on his right side just behind the bike.  Luckily, Hilda was clueless and still completing her turn into the rest stop when the motorcycle collided with the rear side of her car and catapulted over the back of the car and above him.  It finally came to rest about ten yards ahead of his position in the middle of the road.

He slide under the bike across the road and into a wooden fence on the opposite side of the road.  For about five seconds the world exploded in sights and sounds that no one ever wants to witness and then all was still.

She started running and yelling at the same time for anyone around to call 911.  She kept repeating those words as she approached him.  He was not moving and one of his legs were not in a natural position.  That is not what worried her, however.  She approached him and she worked quickly to establish what was wrong and the level of crisis he was in.

When she was done assessing him, she heard the police sirens approaching from behind her.  There were tears in her eyes as the EMT's approached their position and asked her to step back.  She immediately told them who she was and after giving them her assessment they asked what they could do to assist her.

He was transported to the regional medical center where she was the lead physician.  After he was loaded and she felt confident the paramedics had him stabilized, she followed them to the hospital on her bike.  She kept up with the ambulance as it raced through town to the entrance of the emergency room. 

She left her bike at the entrance and brought everything she was wearing into the emergency room; her emergency room.  She quickly barked commands to the orderly on duty about a room and giving the on duty doctors the specifics about his condition.  It was not until he was moved to his room and she was able to let down that she realized everyone was staring at her.  Why are they staring at.........oh shit!  She looked down and slumped her shoulders.  She had worked so hard to get the staff to respect her and her abilities and she just shot that all to hell.

She arrived home later that night and her father was waiting up for her.  She had called earlier to let him know what had happened.  He was very sympathetic and very concerned for her.

She had seen some difficult things in her life for sure, but this was more personal.  Her training and experience allowed her to function and would allow her to carry on normally, but her father knew the toll that can take and wanted to allow her the time to talk about it if she wanted when she got home.

He started, "So how is he?"  She looked at him and yawned, "fine and stable.  He broke two ribs, his right leg, and scraped a lot of skin off his arm, in addition to numerous bumps and bruises.  There will be some significant scaring on his arm but he will be fine physically".

“He was very lucky you were there, cutie", he said.  "Yes daddy", I replied weakly. 

“It's been a long day and I am going to bed”, I said as I walked towards my apartment.  "Thanks for staying up, Dad.  Love you", I called back to him after I was inside.

As she lay there, she thought of what he was feeling if anything at this point.  She saw his wife and kids.  She was very pretty but very cold; even to him.  The kids were scared but seemed to love their dad.  I wonder what that was like to have kids and know they are yours and love you regardless.  That is a scary thought, she imagined.

I wonder what it would be like to have a family with him, she smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

 


© Copyright 2020 acbowgus. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments: