black chevrolet

At the bottom of the grade, I coasted carefully to a stop, so carefully I overshot my intended parking target and we stopped beyond the corner by Boccali's Pizza. I tipped the bike onto its sidestand and cut the motor. She slid down onto the pavement and stood there, flexing one leg and then the next, propping up the smoked visor. Her long brown hair lay tangled down the back of the armored vest. “Oh, you're so lucky. It's so gorgeous, the fields with the horses in them, it's like flying. It's so beautiful. You're so lucky.”

You are lucky, too, you know. Because you weren't afraid of motorcycles you got to be First to Fly. “Oh, I know. It really is like flying, flying along the ground. I really love it, you know.”

And I stare off into the citrus grove. I can't tell you this, but I'm so glad you're with me here so you can know it too. I don't know how to tell you how much I appreciate sharing this with you, to look into your eyes and know the beauty you see is somehow the exact same beauty I see. I'm always alone when I see beauty from my motorcycle, and I hate that. I hate just seeing it alone, for then something's wasted, some facet goes unseen and unappreciated and beauty doesn't deserve that. It's a crime to waste beauty. Maybe when the tree falls in the forest with no one to hear, it doesn't make a sound. But somehow when the horses in the meadow go unseen, it's different. There should be someone to see the horses. It seems a waste of something good.

So I'm very glad you're with me now. I know that I will never see you again. You will go back to your busy life and busy job and two cell phones and boys and online computer games and Florence, Italy, and you will forget about flying on the motorcycle. But even if you forget, I will remember. I will remember the awe and wonder in your brown eyes, your arms trusting me in the curves, your head turned to the side, that we saw the same thing together, and that beauty wasn't wasted that time. I will remember, and who knows, maybe, just maybe, you will remember too.

“Well, it's getting late, I guess. We should probably start getting back to campus now....you ready to head back now?”

“Yes. Oh gosh, my hair is a mess”.

(Yes, your hair is a mess, for God's sake...deal with it)