The Masked Rider

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A legend's secret identity is revealed . . .

Submitted: April 10, 2007

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Submitted: April 10, 2007



My boyfriend Tom and I used to live in Del Paso Heights, a suburb of Sacramento, California.

I didn’t work in the same city where I lived. Tom drove me every morning to my job in Rancho Cordova, where I worked as a data entry specialist at a consumer loan center.

Morale was high there. The employees were always making excuses to have potlucks. I gained ten pounds while I was working there, and enjoyed every minute of it! At one point, another department challenged our department to a bowling match. Our department lost. The next day, with the WHOLE consumber loan center watching, our well-loved manager had to go outside in shorts and a tee shirt and get hit in the face with a banana cream pie! (The pie was hurled at him by the manager of the winning department.) He lost a little dignity, but he enjoyed cleaning his face with his tongue! It was all in fun! The employees were NUTS! We had a great time working there!

After I had worked at the consumer loan center for a few months, I began to hear tales of a mysterious motorcycle thug called "The Masked Rider". I became very curious. This legendary character was elusive. All anyone ever saw was his helmet. The Masked Rider had a reputation of NEVER REVEALING HIS FACE.

Stuff of legends stayed at the office. Although I was as curious as the next girl about The Masked Rider, I never discussed his reputation with my boyfriend Tom, for fear of his getting unnecessarily jealous of the elusive character.

At home, Tom and I had a small four-cylinder Datsun pickup. It gave us good gas mileage.

Our preferred vehicle, however, was Tom’s Honda Goldwing motorcycle. It had two seats: one for the driver and one for the passenger. It also had a storage bin that wrapped around the back tire. It wasn’t as big as a car trunk, but it carried groceries and anything else we might purchase in a day. I LOVED riding that big machine! I never DROVE it. I lacked both the knowledge and the skill, but I truly enjoyed being a passenger. On clear days, Tom and I drove all over Sacramento and used about a spoonful of gasoline.

What’s neat about riding a motorcycle is that the riders are fully exposed to the elements. Wind makes a ride feel faster than it really is. Forty miles per hour FEELS like eighty miles per hour! Leaning into the turns is like making a sharp turn on a rollercoaster. It’s exhilerating! I wouldn’t have traded Tom’s Honda Goldwing for a limousine!

On bright, sunny days, which were perfect for riding, Tom drove me to work on the Goldwing instead of in the Datsun pickup. The ride was a good half-hour or more, depending on the traffic. It was my favorite part of the day! I hung on to Tom for stability and enjoyed the slick feel of the leather jacket against my skin! The only drawback was that I had to rebrush my hair as soon as I reached the office, because it usually got messed up under the helmet.

My helmet was gold-colored and had a tinted face shield. It looked like something a stuntrider would wear. I’m only four feet, seven inches tall, so if I were on the Goldwing behind Tom, I couldn’t be seen from the front of the bike. No one ever saw me coming until I stepped off the motorcycle from behind my boyfriend.

One morning, Tom had driven me to work on the Goldwing. Some loan processors were taking a break underneath a nearby awning. I carefully stepped off the big chrome beast and removed my helmet.

Suddenly, I heard a collective gasp from the direction of the loan processors.

"YOU’RE the MASKED RIDER!" they all said at once. I smiled and waved at them as I used my card key to enter the building. My cover had been blown! My secret identity had been revealed! Who would have thought that The Masked Rider would have been a WOMAN? From that day forward, my nickname at the office was "Goldwing"!


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