She just could not believe that she had come
To this
Again
He had said – Come on – you used to like this
Just for me – and us – it might be good.
- Try
- Please
For me.
Yes – for him.
Again.
So on this chilly day:
Awkward helmet boots and fumbly gloves.
Cold and fear and knees near ears
(The pillion's lot on sports machines.
...and he wouldn't buy the chop...)
They were off, and now she hoped that was not a pun.
She did her best not to wobble and resisted the temptation to put her feet down when they stopped. Ungainly awful Stop Wait, Jerky Action.
An old film forced to watch.
Miserable claustrophobia in traffic queues, between a fuel tanker and a hearse.
Hot foul breath of diesel smoke.
She felt sick.
She wanted out.
[The World convulsed, dissolved reformed
Things changed for her for once
For all]
The slipstream coming off the curved bubble above the glowing clocks buffeted her head with a roaring chaos that added to wild riot. She hooked the next gear and opened the throttle wider. The determined act of twisting the grip brought her body lower to lie on the tank, and her heart closer to the heart of the engine's breathing fiery centre. A green high-sided truck disappeared over her shoulder into into her past: into non-existence. And in front she knew - a climbing curve left and a stiff side wind. She relished the anticipation of the change, getting ready to shift her weight, her eyes burning up the road - fixing the aiming point at the apex of the bend. Now! - the bike eased off the vertical, and healed into the challenge of a new world order of curve and cross winds.
An alliance of forces at the Edge: United,
Poised, and aimed by thought and skill - the creation and flex of a true sword.
And the noise!
The noise was an overwhelming but understood cacophony – the packed high-RPM music of the Engine - loud and hard.
The blaring exhaust and the tyre roar and the wind...
Coming at her from the left now. She bucked and weaved a little with road bumps and sideways forces - a muscular fish in a torrent - but these were trivial disturbances.
Together they were the embodiment of an Act of Will and Purpose -
THIS course THIS speed.
She wanted more.
More power, more speed - so more lean to hold it
With now a less than perfect gear change in the mix.
A sudden bump absorbed by the suspension, and the left hand wing mirror blazes with a shower of sparks from the grounded footpeg arcing back into the dusk. The rear tyre briefly spins in mid air – the engine screaming to the rev limiter - and returns to tarmac with a zwip. A rictus of mortality and terror shudder the bike -
A whiff of Death that lets her live.
This time.
They were through the moment.
And she had kept the throttle wide.
Courage.
No substitute. And its sometime close friend -
Instinct.
You live by them together or not at all.
This curve was ending, and the speed extreme
Almost – Supernatural.
Difficult to hold her head forward against
The flat of the wind's hand held up in her way:
“An end to your defiance!”
But she was not to be turned aside. The landscape could only be seen clearly about a mile ahead - All else was pulsing blur:
An unwinding ribbon of dark green and blue and orange - like a star field at jump to light speed. But the moment held forever visceral – remembered forever. She thought her heart would burst with the joy of being alive on this edge -
At this time
Of all time.
She knew -
There would be more curves and cross-winds
But Now - she was Up Front, In Charge
and, BY GOD she shouted with the wind
SHE WAS GOING FOR IT!