Rider
Chapter 16

Copyright© 2013 by JOHNNY SACHU

Shannon was filling a small blue backpack from Walmart with hardback books to give to the second hand store. There were too many around the house and she was finding it hard not to run into them in bare feet. She hefted the books that were heavier than she thought they might be and left the house through the kitchen door.

Stepping into the garage she flipped the lights on and for a moment, toadmire her ride. Her dark green, almost black, Godet, Vincent motorcycle. She slipped on her blue faced helmet and white leather riding gloves, pulling them tight over her fingers, and fired up the motorcycle with its deep throaty roar. The echo filled the spacious garage with an all encompassing noise She rode out to her street and turned left heading for the main drag. Pulling in front of one of the large windows in front of the 2nd hand store and on the sidewalk, she slipped the backpack off her strong shoulders and opened the pack with the bike’s engine still running, emptying its contents into the donation bin then curled it onto her back again. Pulling up on the shift lever and releasing the clutch, Shannon roared back onto the street and accelerated away fast. She slipped in and out of the cars that were rolling along at 35 mph while she roared by doing 50, and rode westward out of town.

On the interstate’s onramp she opened the throttle further hearing the big twin cylindered engine suck deep gulps of air through the thirsty carborators till the wind rushing past the bike, her black leathers, and helmet drowned out the thick hollow hissing sound. She blasted past cars and semi’s, still accelerating, maneuvering at will till she was doing 90 miles per hour. She cruised away from all that traffic till she hit an open stretch of road where there were no cars in front of her and cracked the throttle open further. She felt the tingling vibration in her buttocks and hands as the engines rpm’s rose, and at 120 mph Shannon noticed the blue lightning tunnel appear around her and fall inward onto her. She felt the warmth, the tingle of it filling her with euphoria and strength and let the Vincent engine push her to higher speeds. At 160 mph, the blue tunnel having dissipated, Shannon was approaching an exit and aimed the bike for it while braking the elegant dark missile hard leaving the interstate.

She went under the overpass and got back on the road building speed again but keeping the bike leveled out at 100 mph. She saw highway patrol lights behind her and gave the policeman a push with her mind; Pull over and rest. Forget about the motorcycle. He or she followed her orders and the lights on the roof of the cruiser went off and was left behind as it slowed to a stop on the side of the road. Shannon, feeling full of blue lightning and better, darted back down the gray concrete interstate towards the Scottsbluff exit.

She went to the truck stop, paid for the buffet, and loaded up a plateful of food. Sitting at a twin seat booth by herself Shannon ate in quiet determination having missed breakfast. She was through in no time and went back for another plateful. Having slept in, this was both it and lunch. She refilled her Cherry Coke and began eating again.

She got up briefly, went to the ladies, had a pee, came back and refilled her soda again.

Looking out at the trucks in the yard she admired the unique colors and chrome of each big rig and let her mind wander, wondering what it would be like to travel all the time because you had to, being on a schedule to be somewhere and then doing it all over again must be tough. She was glad she didn’t work. Being a thief was much more calming, mentally, she thought. But then you had to deal with the guilt, sort of. It didn’t bother her that much, she realized. Or did it ever? No, she concluded. Not me.

Shannon left a big tip for the one cleaning up her mess and went back out to her Vincent. Two truckers were admiring it, looking it over. So donning her helmet before getting into their view she stepped right up to the bike, threw a leg over it and started the engine quickly, slipping on her gloves while the Vincent warmed. They said they really liked the bike but she was in no mood to talk, thanking them and wishing both a good day, briefly, as well, saying, “Be careful out there,” backing the bike out fast, blipping the throttle for noise, then riding away quickly.

She drove west off a side street, past a church near the interstate and followed a country road she’d never been on before. It was twisty and hilly so Shannon had fun with it, ripping and tearing the corners, braking hard, accelerating just as hard and generally pushing her luck with speed and daring.

She passed a country home and something about it looked off to here. It was surrounded by planted pines and there was a huge home sticking up through the treetops and a massive barn of some kind beyond it, both painted white. There was something else about it too, but Shannon didn’t know what it was ... She wanted to follow the road in but there was a yellow gate that kept the road secure. Oh well.

Before giving the Vincent a fist full of throttle, she noticed the name on the rural mailbox. Orland. Different name. “Huh!” and left.

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