It was close to 1:00 PM and I was getting hungry. I had been on the road since early morning, but after four hours I knew I needed to take a break. I was pushing myself to get away quickly and start something new and now that I was away from Portland I could start to enjoying the rest of my journey. I was glad I had opted for the local highways, because it gave me an opportunity to see the country. The bike was running great and it was nice to have no time limit or place I had to be. I was heading south for no special reason, it just seemed like the direction I should go.
I came to a small Southern Oregon town glad to see there were no McDonalds or other fast food joints. Up on the right was a rustic looking café that I liked the look of, so I slowed and pulled in to the small parking lot where I found a parking spot close to the entrance. I backed in, turned the bike off and put down the kickstand. As I pulled off my helmet I noticed a young lady sitting on a bench, reading. I got off the bike, put my helmet on the mirror and unzipped my leather jacket, stretching my back, getting a better look at her. I gauged her to be in her early to mid-twenties. She was dressed in a white t-shirt, blue jeans and dark red cowboy boots, which almost matched her shoulder length red hair. While I was getting off my gloves I noticed her casually play with the end of her hair as she concentrated on her book. There was a suitcase by her feet with what looked like a black leather motorcycle jacket tossed on top of it. There was also a backpack on the bench next to her. I tried hard not to be obvious, but I was unable to stop myself from checking her out. There was something so enjoyable about watching her read her book, how she unknowingly stuck the tip of her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. She looked up and smiled. I couldn't help but smile back and say, "Hi." Looking at her, I was reminded of a line from a Richard Thompson song, "Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme." I thought better of rubbing my tired ass in front of the lady so after stowing my gloves, I walked up the steps to the café, our eyes met, her eyes were green as the fresh grass in a meadow. They sparkled with intelligence and playfulness, I couldn't help but smile back.
"Nice bike. A Harley Sportster," she stated confidently.
"A lady that knows motorcycles, I'm impressed," I smiled down at her, "How's the food here?"
"It's good, my Aunt Betty runs the place. Try the breakfast special, it's my favorite." She broke eye contact with a slight smile along her lips, returning to her book, as I thanked her. I went inside, sat at the counter and ordered the breakfast special, even though it was early afternoon. She was right it was delicious, with home made hash browns and onions, a fluffy cheese, mushroom and bacon omelet with a cup of the best restaurant coffee I've ever had. I complimented the waitress, leaving her a nice tip and ordered a coffee to go. I paid and told the attractive, heavy set, older woman, who I took to be Aunt Betty, how much I liked the food. She smiled warmly and thanked me. We chatted briefly about my trip. I thanked her again and walked outside.
The young woman was still sitting on the bench, "Your ride late?"
"No, the bus to Reno broke down." I do not know when it'll get here.
"Mind if I sit here?" I looked down at the empty spot on the far end of the bench.
"No, go ahead. The bike might be more comfortable on your butt, though." She tossed out the quip so naturally, I couldn't help but chuckle. She didn't change expression at all, flipping to the next page of her book.
I was having trouble easing down next to her on the bench. My legs were stiff and my ass was still a bit sore. I wasn't too graceful as I plopped down onto the bench, both my knees popped as I stretched out my legs. She didn't seem to notice as I leaned back into the bench. She was right, it wasn't very comfortable, but it was nice just to sit and watch the quiet town. It might be a nice place to retire to, but I could see how someone her age would want to move to Reno. I looked over, curious to see if I could see what she was reading. It was Clive Barker's "Everville," a book I had read and really enjoyed. He happens to be one of my favorite authors so I asked her if she liked the book so far. We talked about the book and Clive Barker and horror fiction for a little while. Her name was Leanne and she was moving to Reno where she had a job waiting. I happened to be going south and Reno was certainly on the way so I spontaneously offered to take her. I really don't know what I was thinking. She was attractive, but I didn't have sexual designs on her; I'm in my mid-fifties. I hoped she didn't think I was a perverted old man trying to pick her up. Sure she was cute, better than cute. She needed a ride and I thought it might be fun to have some company for the two days it would take to get to Reno. As soon as I offered to take her, she got a surprised look on her face. I immediately imagined that she was thinking the worst about me. Her eyes looked into mine. Such a lovely green; maybe I did have sexual designs.
"You're serious?" Her eyes lit up, getting as big as saucers from the idea. I was hoping that she just liked the idea of riding on the back of the Harley. "I bet Aunt Betty would give me a refund. That's awesome." She was beaming as she stood, "Watch my stuff?" I smiled, nodding, as she hurried into the café, coming back out in a few minutes with a handful of bills, sitting back down to grab her backpack.
"I better make room for your gear," I said as she was putting the money back in her wallet, "It'll be fun having some company." I hoped I sounded casual as I walked to the bike to begin rearranging the gear, making room for her small suitcase and back pack. I had plenty of bungee chords and it wasn't long before everything was firmly attached.
The load was a little higher and more bulky then I would prefer, but it was secure and safe. She had her leather jacket on and was zipping it up. I noticed it was too big for her. I wondered who it might have belonged to. Maybe I'd ask her about it. I got the spare helmet out of the saddle bag, handing it to her. As she put on the helmet, I zipped up my jacket, got my gloves on, put on my helmet, climbed on, flipped down the passenger foot pegs and started her up. I had to rev it, just because I love that special Harley rumble. She beamed as she climbed on behind me, placing her hands on my waist.