Short Story: Escape

Escape

That’s why you ride.

To get out of your head. To get out of the grind. To save on gas. To be with friends. To dance with modern day predators. Cat and mouse. Bug and bird. Man versus metal.

Even though the season is ending, its a great day for a ride. The last ride - after this I’ll fill the gastank, coat the chain, and cover it for the winter months. But this is too nice a day to give in. I just need to get my work laptop, what’s the worst that could happen?

I crest the first hill of a small valley and do the usual assessment of the situation: The light is red but will be green by the time I get there, no cars leaving any of the stores, no one making the left turn of death from oncoming. The four-way intersection is empty.

The signal turns green and I see a sedan approaching from the right street. Their blinker is on to take the right in to my lane. But no one could be that much of a-

The sedan jumps out

I swerve into the left lane

Gun the throttle.

I’m beside them, alive. Then the front left turn signal comes on and they merge in to my lane.

I jam both breaks, swerve and lay on my horn, the bike vibrating like a jackhammer. I’m riding the yellow line and just as I’m about to ditch the bike he swerves away, I release the breaks and gun the throttle.

Escape

That’s why you ride.

Escape

That’s how you survive.

I flip him off and coast away to the waiting red light, shifting in to the right lane in case he decides to rear end me to complete the full gambit of dumb shit to do to a motorcyclist. My heart is beating in my ears, I’m sweating in my helmet, and my hands are shaking, but I’m fine. No worse for the wear.

It’s only another hundred feet to the first turn that leads to the highway and that’s where I forget the damage that was done to my good mood. The momentary doubts of whether I should ride anymore are gone, I’m leaning in to the turn, dodging the potholes and wringing my throttle to slalom the staggered vehicles.

It’s good to be riding one more time.

I make it to the highway as night proper sets in, the streetlights make halos on the asphalt. I watch my shadow get impossibly long then squish and squat then spin off me like the hand of a stopwatch in retrograde. You only get so many nights like this to ride on Long Island.

There’s barely any other cars around and I’m smirking behind my helmet, the cool air slips around me. Now that’s air-conditioning. There’s no apprehension when you’re alone on the highway, no fear of other people, there’s just you, your bike, and all the asphalt you can traverse. It’s beautiful.

I gun the throttle to 75 for a moment then ease back to 65. I was told somewhere it’s good to break in the engine with a few blips. I’ve still got less then 1000 miles on it, that needs to change next season.

I need an excuse next season.

Escape

I’m at my building before I know it and my laptops secured in a blink. I have the rest of the ride back to think about how much of a waste this is. I just wanted to be on the bike one more time.

And when I get on?

Escape