BOYFRIEND WITH A MOTORCYCLE

HARLEY DAVIDSON

           

           The only thing Mom didn’t like about David was his motorcycle.

          “Gloria, I do not want you on that cycle!  Now, I have told you before how dangerous they are.  When you were only two years old, Tommy Terrell came by the house in Magdalena, and took me for a ride on his motorcycle.  We were going to take you with us and then I decided not to.  Thank God we didn’t or you would have been killed!”

          I knew the story well; the motorcycle had collided with a car.  Mom had been thrown from the bike and suffered a concussion, which put her in the hospital for weeks.  Her friend had walked away with minor injuries.

          David drove up to the curb, sitting on the seat of his black Harley Davidson.   I was standing in line for the school bus.

          “Want a ride home?” he yelled.  His green eyes sparkled good naturedly and he smiled his cocky grin.  I looked over at him, and then at the bus.  It wasn’t hard to decide.

          “Okay, but you’ll have to leave me off at the corner or Mom will have a fit.”

          “Your Mom doesn’t need to worry.  “I’m great on this chunk of metal!”

          It was true.  David and his cycle welded together as one mechanically smooth machine.  He had confidence and full control.

          I swung my leg over the seat and tucked my cotton skirt under my legs to maintain my modesty.  Holding the books in the crook of my left arm, I placed my right one around David's waist and hung on tight.

          “Ready?”

          “Ready,” I answered.

          The engine revved, the side pipes smoked and we were off.  The wind blew my face causing my eyes to sting, so I leaned my head against David's back.  My long hair whipped in the wind and I wondered if I’d be able to comb out the tangles.

          Wyoming Boulevard flew by as David guided the cycle through traffic.  We turned at the Constitution intersection and a few minutes later the bike came to a halt.

          I climbed off the Harley, straightened my skirt and combed my thick tangled hair.

          “I’ll call you later,” David yelled, as he spun his bike toward home.

          “You here already?” Mom asked as I entered the front door.

          “It didn’t take as long today,” I answered, hoping she wouldn’t notice my cheeks were red from being wind blown. (And from her question.)

DOUBLE TROUBLE COMING MY WAY

 

 

HERE COMES DOUBLE TROUBLE

          I was standing outside my second hour class, busily engaged in conversation with another girl, when someone bumped hard against my shoulder.  I turned and found two dark eyes penetrating mine.  The eyes belonged to a girl twice my size (both up and out).  She gave me a sneer with her upper lip and turned her back.  Following close behind, as her shadow, was a small wiry girl.  She scowled as she passed by me.

          “Whatever you do, stay away from those two!” my friend whispered, “They are trouble!”

          The following day, I met “trouble” coming down the hall.  There was no way to avoid them. They were heading straight in my direction.

          The small one gave me a “death stare” while the large one proceeded to be the mouthpiece for the two.

          “You meet us after school this afternoon in front of the building, Hot Shot!  We’re going to beat you to a pulp!”

          I walked around them, trying hard to act nonchalant, but my knees were shaking.

          When the dismissal bell rang that afternoon, I left by the side door and ran to the bus.

          For two days I lived in fear of those girls!

          It was the fourth hour and we were assembling for the PE class.

My enemies threw dagger stares in my direction.  I did my best to ignore their hissing, “Chicken!”

          The large girl came over to my pile of belongings, picked up one of my notebooks and began flipping through the pages.  All at once I had had enough!  I could feel the anger welling up inside of me, and the fear that had been binding me...evaporated!  At that moment, I didn’t care if she was three times my size.  I walked over to her and grabbed the notebook from her hand.

          “You leave my things alone!” I demanded, as I stared her in the face. (I was shocked at the forcefulness of my own voice.)

          Her face registered shock and then her features transformed into a smile!  Her “shadow” stared at me in unbelief.

          From that day on, the two that were known as “trouble” never troubled me again.