The Road Trip

The Road Trip, Part 1©

By Owengreybeard

The smell of gasoline vapor hit my nose with a pleasant tang as the liquid sloshed into the tank. The handle of the hose nozzle chilled quickly as the fuel was borne out of the ground and into my Electra Glide Classic. My friend Craig sat astride his aging Panhead on the other side of the pump, waiting his turn to fuel up.

"You better check your oil, CC. It's been a hundred and fifty miles since you added any, so it's probably nearly empty. If you want, I could blow my nose into the oil tank...I think most of the smoke that ugly old bitch is spewing out went up my nose or onto my windshield."

His middle finger slid up the side of his face, pushing his goggles up and onto his half helmet. We bike riders are masters of sign language, even if our vocabulary is somewhat limited.

"Where to next?" he asked, an easy smile appearing on his face. The old tanker goggles had pressed creases onto his already wrinkled cheeks, but the day Craig rode behind a windshield would be the day he died.

"How about taking the 198 through the Smith River canyon and have lunch at Crescent City?" I asked.

"Cool," He responded. "I like the little restaurant over by Tex's bait and tackle. Let's hit the little bakery downtown first, though, okay?"

"Sounds good to me. Lead the way, if the old girl will start, that is." After a cold stare in my direction, he flipped the old bike pedal out and to my astonishment, the ancient hog fired on the first kick. I think Craig was surprised too, but he hid it well.

We turned right down Second Street and parked in the little corner of the parking lot in front of the bakery. Music drifted out of the front door, and as we walked inside, the smell of yeast and coffee mixed pleasantly with the sounds of a trio playing for their pastries. I knew all three of the people and made eye contact with the singer, who smiled and nodded. His son slapped the Cajon with decisive energy and his wife had a nice bass line rolling off her Fender 5-string bass.

"They must have known we were comin'," Craig said as the trio started off with the classic 'China Grove'.

The young woman behind the counter looked up shyly and I asked for two blueberry/cream cheese bagels. She moved to get the food from the glass case to her right, and I watched her as she moved. It was not immediately evident, but if you'd watched her as often as I had, you'd see the curvature in her rigid spine and the stiff-legged limp when she moved behind the counter.

She was beautiful and quite exotic. Her dark eyes and black hair spoke volumes about her Indian/Pakistani origins. She was quite petite, probably less than five feet tall and whip thin, save for what appeared to be an ample bust. Her smile was amazing, and I'd found myself spending more and more time thinking of her in the last few months.

"Is that your motorbike, Owen?" She asked, looking past me into the parking lot.

"If you mean the rusty white panhead pile of bolts out there by the bike rack, then no. If, on the other hand, you're talking about the beautiful red Harley-Davidson Electra Glide beside it, however, then you are absolutely right, Talin." Craig's eyes circled skyward, but he said nothing.

"I have never been on a motorbike, Owen. My sister says it is like flying, scary and wonderful at the same time. Is that how it is for you?"

"I haven't thought about it like that for a while, Talin, but I guess it is kind of like flying. When do you get off of work?" I looked at Craig, and saw an almost imperceptible wink.

"I will be done in about fifteen minutes, why?" she asked.

"Well, Craig and I are riding over to the coast and back when we leave here. I have some gear and a spare helmet in my bags and you're welcome to ride along if you'd like to. We'll be back just after dark, and I'll even spring for dinner. What do you say?"

"OH! That would be amazing! You're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"Well, Talin, the bike and I are going to go one way or another, and I don't think Annie will even know you're on the back, you're so tiny."

"Who is Annie, Owen?"

"Sorry. Annie is the bikes name. I named her after my wife."

"I haven't heard you talk about a wife, Owen."

Craig cleared his throat and got a refill in his travel mug, then walked outside, clearly uncomfortable. He is a lot more sensitive than he lets on.

"She died a few years back, Talin. I don't talk as much about her as I should, I guess. It feels like I'm an old whiner when I do."

Talin looked at the shop floor. "I'm very sorry, Owen." She said softly.

"It's ok, Talin. Water under the bridge. So, are ya going to come along?"

"I would love to. I have never been on a motorbike, and I have never seen the ocean."

"Well, let's go, then." I walked out to the parking lot and found Craig fussing with his bike.

"Way to go, old man," Craig said through a shit eating grin.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, ya perv. She's young enough to be my daughter."

"What was that, Grampa?" he laughed.

"When that pig breaks down, you are walking; you know that, don't ya?"

"It'll be worth every step," He said with a smile.

Talin came out of the café when her shift was over, and I had some gear ready for her to try on. I'd pulled Annie's riding leathers out of the right side bag and laid them out. They smelled like leather and like her perfume, and I found myself staring at them for a while longer than I should have. I hadn't taken them out since I put them in the bag after her last ride. Her last ride.

2

We'd gone on a short ride even though I could tell she wasn't feeling well. The last round of chemo had not really changed the tumors at all, and the doctor had told us that she felt there was no sense in continuing treatment. I had spoken to her outside the infusion center as Annie was getting dressed, insisting on doing it herself, saying, "It's my job to get dressed, and it's your job to get me undressed, OK?"

"How long, Sara?" I'd asked Dr. Rostica.

"Not long, Owen. She's already showing significant central nervous system involvement. She's starting to drag her left foot when she walks, although she's trying to hide it from you. It's not easy to predict, but soon it's going to go to her spine, and when it does, the pain's going to be unbearable, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"If she was an animal, I wouldn't let her suffer like that. Is there anything I can do?" I said softly.

"Annie and I have talked about that, Owen, and when the time comes, she'd like me to take care of her. Do you know what that means, Owen?"

In answer to her question, I enveloped her in a hug, and we both wept for a little while.

I took Annie home and she went right to the garage. As she moved ahead of me, I could see the weakness in her gait; her left hip sagged when she picked up her foot, and the toe turned in and dragged softly on the concrete. She stopped at the doorframe and turned.

"Are you looking at my ass, mister?"

"You better believe it, lady. You got a problem with that?"

"Liar. Let's ride, OK?"

"Where to?"

"Doesn't matter, does it?"

"I guess not. Get your gear on, and I'll get the bike started," I said, watching her grab the leathers out of the side bag. She struggled to get the chaps on; she had to lift her leg with her hands to pick it up, and the grip in her left hand wasn't right. When she was done, she threw her leg down as if it had personally offended her. I looked away just before she glanced up to see if I had been watching.

We rode through the October afternoon, the red and golden leaves swirling around us as I took us through the back lanes near the foothills of the Siskiyou Mountains. I smelled burning leaves and cool water as we traveled the roads of our personal history. As we rode, Annie's hands held me and caressed me gently, moving slowly, as if trying to remember the feel of me. My hair became damp with my tears.

We got back to the house and pulled into the garage just as it began to rain. I sat on the Harley for a while, just holding Annie's hands in mine. I had to help her get off, and carried her into the house and laid her down on the bed. She dozed as I took her leathers off and undressed her, since it was, as she'd said, my job to do so. It was a job I'd always relished. She'd never been comfortable in her skin, and after 50 years, she still could not take a compliment. It took years to get her to have fun in bed, and she was still very restrained, at least until she got close to orgasm, and then the primitive part of her brain apparently took over, and she let loose and got wild. Now, her hair was mostly gone, there were dark circles under her eyes, and the pain was evident in her every movement. In spite of it all, she still took my breath away.

I got her naked and then myself, and I lay down beside her and pulled her to me, her arm and leg thrown over me and her head on my chest under the down comforter. Her breathing was deep as she slept, and I listened intently, fearing each breath would be her last. Eventually, I dropped off as well. I dreamt of times past when we were both young, and the dreams took a decidedly erotic turn. I awoke slowly and realized that the dreams had turned to reality. Annie lay atop me, moving her hips slowly as I slid in and out of her body. Her eyes were downcast and her forehead was on my chest as she watched the union of our bodies. The wispy remnants of her hair were like smoke in my vision, moving in our breath and with our coupling. My grief rose in me and I started to soften. The instant she noticed the change in me, she looked up and made eye contact. She scooped up her right breast and took her nipple in her lips, pulling and moaning, something she would never have done before.

"What's the matter mister? Am I not sexy enough for you? I'm pretty horny here, and I'm counting on you for the fuck of my life, OK?" her words seemed slightly slurred, but I was focused pretty tightly on her eyes to notice. She ground her pussy down on me and rotated her hips like a porn star, and I rose inside her. As we fucked, I felt her orgasm thunder through her failing body and she burst into laughter as she came. I followed her into ecstasy shortly afterward. We looked at each other for a long, long time, saying nothing, and finally we both slept, her head on my chest and our bodies still joined. As it turned out, that was the last time we made love. A few weeks went by, and she got worse and worse. Sara had prescribed a concoction called 'Brompton's Elixir', which is Morphine, Heroin and other stuff in a liquid form. It helped for a while, although she went away when she took it.

About three weeks later I awoke and washed her her face with a warm wash cloth, changed the diaper she'd begun to need. After I got her cleaned up and tucked her in, I turned to go fix breakfast and heard a noise. Annie's face was sagging a little on her left side and she motioned to me with her right hand. I returned to bed and curled up on her right side.

"Got...go..." She mumbled quietly.

"You sure babe? You just went."

"No... gotta...go. Get... Sara, K?

I whispered into her ear, "No... I need more time, baby. She said it would be a while."

"Sorry, S'wrong I guess. Hurts, Babe."

"I'll get her, Annie."

I slid out of bed and numbly walked to the other room. I picked up the phone and put it down a dozen times, until I heard Annie moaning in the other room.

"Sara?" I whispered into the phone, "It's Owen. Can you come over right away?"

"Oh, Honey. I'll be right there."

When I got back to the bed, Annie was covered in a light sheen of sweat and her right hand and arm were shaking. Her left side was completely still, and her left eye was unfocused and partly open.

When I got close to her face, her right eye bore into me and she squeezed my hand tightly. "Luu...you...suh...muh...Owah. So...k... soon..."

I told her over and over how much I loved her, said things I do and don't remember, and when Sara arrived, she had pretty much stopped responding.

Sara slid into the bed beside me and put her stethoscope on Annie's chest. She looked up at me, and listened again.

"She's gone, Owen. Sara's gone. I didn't do anything to her, I swear it, Owen. She left on her own. I'm so very sorry."

And so Annie began her last ride. Craig and several other friends came over and spent the day with me, and we had a private wake for her a couple of days later, which she would have been very opposed to.

It was almost three years after she died before I rode again. The Glide hadn't been touched since she died, so Craig and a couple of friends came over and serviced her and got her ready for me. They then badgered me mercilessly until I went riding with them. It was really, really hard to do, but once I was in the wind, it was almost like Annie was with me again.

3

A tiny hand on my arm shook me out of my daydream.

"Perhaps this is not a good idea, Owen?"

"Sorry, Talin, I just had a senior moment. See if these will fit you, okay?"

"I have to talk to you about something first, Owen."

"Sure, Talin. What's up?"

"You have noticed that my spine is curved, yes?" I nodded and said, "Is the riding going to be painful for you?"

"No. actually the curvature is only awkward in that my spine is very rigid, so I cannot flex like most people. Thankfully, it is not painful at all. The problem is my left leg. I had polio when I was 4 years old, and so I wear a brace and an extension. That leg is actually nearly a foot shorter than the other. You cannot see it because I am always behind the counter. I am hoping that my being...unusual... will not be a problem."

I hugged her to me and said, "I don't have a problem with you, Talin. As a matter of fact, I was actually about to have the same conversation with you." Her lush eyebrows rose, and I put my right foot on the rear passenger footboard and pulled up my pant leg to expose the carbon fiber stump socket and prosthetic foot. Talin's hand rose to her mouth, and I thought I'd screwed up until she reached out and felt the carbon fiber with her hands. "Wow. That's amazing! You'll have to show me how it works someday."

"I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours," I said, and then immediately regretted saying.

"Ready or not, here I come!" she replied and dropped her billowy cotton pants.

Craig and I both stood there like fish with our mouths hanging open.

"What's wrong, gentlemen? Have you never seen a woman's panties before?" She said with a smile.

"I have a feeling it's a losing bet to dare you to do anything. You are not the fragile flower you pretend to be, are you, Talin?"

"My brothers have a nickname for me. They call me 'Abhi' which sort of translates to..."

"Fearless. It means Fearless, Talin."

Now it was her turn to stand with her mouth open. I pulled open my shirt collar and pulled out the necklace with the two identical charms. She took them gently and looked at them. "They are the same. They are the Sanskrit characters for the word 'Fearless'."

"One is mine, the other was Annie's. So, do you think we need to take off your brace to get the leather chaps on?"

"I think that would be best. You may have to carry your little flower around like a great elephant, though," Talin said, jokingly.

It would be my pleasure, your Exotic Majesty," I said with an exaggerated bow. I knelt and undid the straps of the brace, and slipped the tiny foot out of its little shoe, suspended on a platform above the prosthetic foot upon which Talin normally stood. I smoothed the sock back over her little foot, and she burst into laughter.

"Ooo, really ticklish, you!"

"I'm sorry, I guess I thought it would be numb, from the polio?"

"That's a common misconception, Owen, Polio destroys the motor neurons, not the sensory ones. My foot and leg are actually exquisitely sensitive. And ticklish, too."

I slid her pants back on for her and stowed the little brace and shoe in the left saddle bag. I helped her put on the chaps, rolling the left one up and putting the little black shoe on her tiny foot. She hopped over to the bike, her short leg flopping wildly, and held her arms up for me to lift her on. I did so, enjoying the experience particularly intensely, since it was terminated with a quick kiss on the cheek.

The black leather chaps looked great on her, and I realized the she must be nearly identical in size to Annie. I hadn't been conscious of the similarities at all until just then. The jacket fit nicely as well, although Talin filled out the bust a little more fully than Annie had. Altogether, it was a nice look for her, even more exotic than she already was.

"Wow, Talin, now you look more like my daughter than my grand-daughter, so we're less likely to get arrested for kidnapping you." She laughed gaily and actually seemed to blush, although her dark skin made it impossible to tell for sure.

"I think that we need to talk about my age, Owen. You seem to think I am some sort of child, which is amusing at first, but not so much later. I am very attracted to you, so let me say this. My genetics may not have been kind to me as far as my body structure is concerned, but my Great-Grandmother is still quite active at 104 years of age, my Grandmother is 86, my mother is still working at 64. I am the oldest of 7 children, and my youngest sibling is 23 years old. So you see, I may look like a girl, but I promise that I am a woman. Let's ride."

"Fair enough. I apologize and I will not make that mistake again, Talin. Go ahead and sit back against the backrest. When we turn, the bike will lean..." She put her finger on my lips and said, "One of the primary modes of transport in India is a contraption called a bicycle, Owen. Perhaps you've heard of them. I am a master in their use, in spite of the fact that I have only a single cylinder to power them with..."

"I'm gonna shut up now," I said. Craig was holding his sides and laughing his ass off at this point, and so was Talin. I handed her Annie's helmet and helped her fasten the chin strap, connect the intercom cable, and we were off.

Talin sat the back seat like she was born to it. She rode relaxed, looking around me to see the sights. I'd had the footboards and seat raised so that Annie could see something besides the back of my head and shoulders as we rode, and the view seemed fine for Talin as well. The intercom cable let us talk to each other as we rode, and I learned a lot about her and her family. Her parents had brought the family to the US in 1985 when Talin was 15, which astonished me. At 39, Talin was only 13 years younger than me; I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that she wasn't old enough to drink. Around Grants Pass, she told me that her left leg kept falling off the footboard. After that, I rode with my left hand on her ankle or cupping the little foot to keep it in place. I am pretty sure she was purring after I'd stroked it for a while We pulled over to stretch at the little rest area just past the tunnel on the Redwood highway in Northern California, and all of us used the rest room, including Talin, who pulled her short leg up to her side and hopped into the bathroom, totally ignoring the stares. When Talin came out, Craig and I had found a table and had broken out the blueberry bagels we'd bought at the bakery, along with some coffee.

"So, what do you think, Talin? Are you a Harley fan?"

"I am so surprised by all this, guys. I have always been afraid of bikers in general; you know the black leather, the noise and all. I like that everybody waves, and the feeling of power that I get from the motor is great, too."

Right then Craig piped up.

"You think it's a coincidence that so many pretty women ride on the back? All my girlfriends really like this section through the Redwoods." I cocked an eye at Craig when he took a breath. He ignored me and continued to speak. "They can't wait to jump my bones...something about the vibrations the engine produces and the beauty of the place..." He looked at my warning expression and said, "What? I'm just sayin?"