(An attempt at some really short fiction)
He sat on the deck in the back yard, the coffee mug at his
elbow pouring steam into the cool morning air. As the sun broke over the
horizon, his gaze wandered from the lightening sky, across the freshly half-lit
dawn yard to his bike. He’d prepared the motorcycle for this journey over the
last couple of evenings after work. Fresh oil and filter, newly adjusted and
lubricated chain, brakes adjusted and suspension dialed in. He admired the
slope of the fuel tank from the neck down to the seat. Took a glance at the V
twin engine that seemed to him in his dreamy, still-half-asleep state like a
race horse, chomping at the bit, impatient to get running. He stretched his
sleepy back and took a sip of his coffee. He loved this bike. She’d always
gotten him down the road and back again with no hassles.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………
He sat on the deck in the back yard, whiskey and Coke at his
elbow, beads of condensation from the humid evening running down its side. His
gaze wandered from the purple tinged dusky clouds across the newly shadowed
yard to his bike. He admired the slope of the dented tank from the neck to the
torn seat. He glanced at the bent handlebars now missing a mirror. He saw the
dust stuck to the lube on the links in the chain. His eyes took in the leaves
and grass stuck to the side of the V twin motor, now seeming more like a horse
ridden hard and put up wet. He took a long pull on the cocktail, wincing at the
way the fresh scabs on his arm pulled against the skin. He loved this bike. She’d
always gotten him down the road and back again, alive and in one piece.
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