Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Roadside (shortened version for fiction contest)



Roadside

                The engine rumbled as Danny rolled the throttle and worked the gears of his Harley through the twisting canyons. The small brown package was strapped to the rear fender as the sharp aroma of wildflowers hung powerfully in the air. He was standing on his porch when it came, nondescript and foreboding, wrapped in plain brown paper.
He’d received this type of package many times before. Inside was a picture, a small scrap of yellow legal paper which had instructions and an address. It was always the same. The only things that changed were the who and the how. This one needed to look like an accident.
He had taken this route many times before and knew each bend and line that flowed through the jagged granite walls. His bike’s power band was in the driving torque of 3rd gear and as he throttled out of each turn he slipped it effortlessly into 4th screaming black streaks towards nowhere in particular.
                The destination never mattered to Danny; the road was a place where he could free himself from the burdens of life, marriage, work and everything in between. Its subtle mysteries called to him and he was drawn to it as easily as migrating birds are drawn south to escape the harsh northern winters. Another sharp curve quickly materialized from the liquid haze of the road and Danny lightly pulled the clutch in and downshifted back into 3rd. He found his line and locked into the turn as cleanly as he has previously threaded the deadly needle of mortality from behind the safety of a sniper rifle. Danny swung the bike out wide and swiftly dipped into the curve, rolling on the throttle hard. The bike dove down and fit itself neatly into the sharp lines, sticking to the blurred asphalt below.
There’s a hairpin turn on the bottom end of the summit that has a beautifully deadly view. Like the siren song from mythology, the view pulls unsuspecting overconfident riders in, promising a glimpse into heaven and lures the ill-fated travelers to their death. He knew that curve all too well. He had flirted with it dangerously many times and had always ridden safely away. Not every rider had Danny’s success or skills. This was punctuated by the makeshift crosses and roadside memorials that nestled mournfully next to the scrapes and gouges created by adrenaline.
There is no substitute for a life steeped in experience, and Danny had lived his free from regret and (for the most part) independent of repercussions. It wasn’t until she came into his life that things began to change and he found himself in a standoff with reality. Relationships need the opportunity to grow and foster, finding true love is rare and finding a lifetime companion is even more elusive. She was both and, for a while, Danny had it all.
He had met her one night at a bar in Monterey. She was drawn to the beauty of the area and she quickly fell in love with the scenery… and Danny. Monterey is a beautiful place with dramatic views that leave cash infused tourists slack jawed and awestruck. Monterey also has a darker side. Immigrants from Sicily came to fish the fertile waters of Northern California and helped to create the vibrant history of the area. Organized crime came too. There was a time past when a case of Italian whiskey could get you a driver’s license, payoff the police, or a night with a beautiful woman. Danny worked for these men and had a taste for gambling. He owed them a lot of money and they used his services often to help cover his outstanding debts.
He thundered down the asphalt and the world sped by with Danny comfortably tucked into the slipstream of his existence. Getting away from the pungent salt air and drawing down deep into the valley roads, not readily known by the eager Midwestern tourists who plunge their blindingly white toes into the frigid ocean waters, was an escape for him. Tight corners, poorly paved roads and the wonderful heat of midsummer, where the coastal breeze gets forgotten by the dry burn of the valley in Northern California, was the fuel for his existence.
The scenic view was breathtaking. He had spent so many years of his life and so many miles trying to avoid its beauty. Today, it called to him and he curled his wrist downward, opening up the throttle wide. He gently slipped the bike into 5th gear and all his senses went numb except for his sense of sight. The beauty of that view, the mountains slowly melting into the expanse of the Pacific Ocean, burned itself into his mind.
He stopped thinking about everything. Veronica, the boys, money, debt, friends, it all faded away into the panorama that stretched out before him. The speedometer on his bike read 110mph and he didn’t have time to focus on the rusted steel guardrail hurtling towards him. The view was mesmerizing and its beautiful siren song flooded his head with its toxic invitation. The vista charged at him, fate pulling him into his next reality. Closer it sped at him, opening up before him like a beautiful flower in a time lapsed video as the sun caresses its petals, enticing it to open. He felt the warmth of the sun settle on his cheeks and he saw her beautiful face smile upon him one last time as he floated off into oblivion, the brown paper wrapped box with his picture and address inside still tightly secured to the rear fender.

                


Dark Roast (short story)

Dark Roast

by: Michael Bryan

                Maria had grown so tired of her daily routine. The realization that her life was deliberately passing her by lazily pressed upon her like a scratch in the back of her throat before catching a cold or coming down with the flu. The weight of this realization had burrowed into her consciousness and had begun to claim more and more territory. At first, it was just a shadow that was easily lost in the fading red bricks and art inspired shop signs that spread before her daily like an industrial art gallery.  Lately, it was a blaring alarm screaming its symphonic interpretation of the mundane, suffocating her creativity and rendering impotent her passion for life.
                “What do you think, babe? Do you want to try the dark roast today? Maybe a little soy milk as well? Oh, I know. How about an extra shot of espresso?” Patrick said to her with the infuriating enthusiasm that only the dull and boring can muster. It was just coffee for Christ’s sake. Patrick would talk about a new cup of coffee like others talked politics, art or music. The way she used to talk about those things . . . with passion.
                “Sure honey, let’s live a little today” she hissed sarcastically at him.
                “Fantastic” he replied, completely oblivious to her tone. It wasn’t even a tone at this point, it was an outright plea for aid. Help me! She would scream into her mind, trying weakly to chip away at the concrete foundation poured into the solid forms fastened by routine.
“I’ll go grab us a table,” she spat. “Why don’t you wait and grab the drinks.” At least she could feel the adrenaline rush of choosing where to sit. She always picked the window. She liked to observe other people as she blithely sipped her coffee, longing for adventure. Maria wasn’t a daredevil. She didn’t have the need to skydive, plant her flag on some foreign mountain summit or scream black streaks on the back of a motorcycle at 120mph. She just wanted something different, something more than the missionary position and dark roast.
Maria burned for a real man, dangerous and unpredictable. A powerful, passionate man who could make her scream in ecstasy. Patrick was not a man. He was hipster cool with his black framed glasses, ironic flannel shirts and pomade slicked hair. On first appearance, he looked like the man she wanted and it was nice to pretend with him; however, after a while, she identified him as a fraud. He was the dollar store knockoff, camouflaged in shirts that would never see a drop of grease and hands that would never turn a wrench, get a drop of blood on them or touch her in the way she needed.
As she plodded towards an open table, grimy yet clean in only the way public furniture can be, she noticed a man sitting alone. He was reading an old nondescript book, yellowed and worn, quietly sipping his coffee. As she brushed past him, he looked up at her and effortlessly twisted the left side of his mouth into a subtle smirk, narrowing his eyes a bit which intensified their speckled auburn coloring. She stabbed a conspirator’s grin towards him, exposing her pearl white teeth, lightly stained from the daily coffee and the tar of a social smoker.
“Hi,” he said, “how’s your day?” His voice, with a subtle rasp, echoed off the windows behind her.
“It’s going just fine, thank you. How about you?” She whispered back, not wanting to raise her voice to a level where Patrick might hear. “Just waiting for my coffee, you know how complicated a coffee order has become these days.”
“Not for me, I always just drink mine black with two sugars. Coffee shouldn’t be complicated, you know.” He tightened his face a little and nodded towards Patrick.
She could feel the sudden rush of blood painting her face pink. She noticed the painting above the man. It was a retro inspired painting which said “Ski Vail” and showed caricatures of people in embroidered snowflake sweaters skiing fresh snow and warming themselves by massive stone fireplace as a blizzard raged outside. It was pop culture at its finest, exactly the type of art you would expect to see in a coffee shop.
The floodwaters of fantasy quickly enveloped her consciousness. They were in Vail, effortlessly sliding down jagged mountain peaks as the sun lightly branded their exposed cheeks the ruddy color that only comes from being active outdoors. They sat by the fire and talked, she lightly snickering and touching his arm, lost in one another in only the way that true lovers can.
She snapped out of her daydream with a renewed purpose. She decided it was time to take charge and stop complaining about life. He was going to be her salvation, delivering her from the bondage of complacency. She quietly wrote her number down winked at him and whispered, “Give me a call.” She quietly moved to an empty booth away from the stranger, ready to tell Patrick it was over.
Satisfied, she slid into the booth with a renewed purpose. Suddenly, the police burst into the shop, grabbed the man and violently slammed him to the worn tile floor, handcuffing him.  
“We finally got you, you sick bastard,” snarled one of the officers. “We found the heads. . .you’re gonna rot for this forever.”
The man looked over at her, the shock splashed across her face and bent his mouth into a grin. “All I wanted was just one more,” he whispered and blew her a kiss as he was rushed out the door.


                

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Micro Fiction

I've been doing a little freelance writing lately and a potential client asked me to write a 1000 character (yes character, not words folks) creative piece using the following keywords: future, flying car, gates, city, robot. Check it out.

He towed the metallic remains of a battle-worn robot down the dust-covered road that was once the main trade artery into the city. His eyes fixated upon its massive outline scaling the burning red embers of the morning sky. The empty skyline once saturated with the flying cars and technological advancements found between the pages of former generations’ science fiction novels, was now a testament to the true destructive power of modern technology. He had read one of these antiquated books once, a tattered and dirty testimony to the ignorance of our past.

He lightly chuckled to himself as he trudged towards the gates of the city, now beaten and dilapidated by decades of sandstorms and the wind blown ash created through the divinity of a nuclear winter. There were to be no medal ceremonies or ticker tape parades upon his return this time. All that remained was the hollow skeleton of his once great home and a subtle grin etched itself across his embattled face as we headed in the direction of his home, uncertain about what uncertain trials lay ahead in the approaching future.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

All Organic (short story)

It was so easy to snowball these rubes the past few years. His easy charm, ready smile and cultured good looks liberated the fat wallets of the men and the congested inhibitions of the women. Everyone was searching for salvation and the good Reverend was there to provide them all with a breathless release. Since he rolled into town three years ago, the good Reverend had managed to fill the church with almost every woman in town. They, of course, brought along their husbands and boyfriends (some of whom held the same closeted desires as the women) with their trusting natures and fat money clips. The Reverend had a gravity about him that attracted wealth, lust and allegiance.
He walked into the market, effortlessly sliding down the stalls and pretended to ignore the quiet whispers of the giggling housewives, searching for a speck of gossip to fill the void in their shallow lives.  Feeling a touch on his sleeve, he turned and his synthetic smile quickly retreated into a contemptuous sneer. Looking first left and right, he angrily spat, “I told you never to speak to me again!”
She blinked, her long lashes brushing her cheeks, and said, “But I need to talk to you.” Leaning closer she paused and lowered her voice. “I think someone knows.”
He studied her for a moment, searching his thoughts carefully for the appropriate answer to her statement. “Nobody knows,” he whispered, “this was planned meticulously. You need to leave . . . now!” His raised voice accented the “ow” of the last word and a few people close enough to the veiled conversation turned to look and then quickly circled away. All that was left was the two of them and the subtle squeak of shopping cart wheels racing towards an unknown destination.
She smirked at the faint hint anxiety she heard in his voice. She knew the power she held over him and, if word got out to the congregation, that she could expose him. “I told you . . . someone knows. What are you going to do about it? We’re both screwed here if any of this gets out.”
His face twisted, lost in the mimicry of perplexed thoughts. “Who? Who could possibly know any of this?” He half asked, half stated to nobody in particular. The metallic hum of the air conditioning unit echoed off the silence that surrounded them.
Finally, she broke the silence, “look, just come with me to the chapel, you’ll see what I’m talking about.” Her face was distorted with purpose and that earlier arrogance was rapidly being replaced by the realization of her own collusion with the Reverend.
The chapel was an old brick building built in the early 1900’s that was originally a restaurant and served as a welcome respite from the confines of prohibition in the 1920’s. It was somewhat like the town itself, weathered from years of mild winters and dry, dusty country club summers. The Reverend understood the importance of a good location’s ability to connect the history of small towns like this to the citizenry. The success or failure of starting up in a new town relied on the ability to create an instant connection with the community. Rehabilitating an older piece of architectural nostalgia was the first step to gaining loyalty, parishioners and their cash. Not all small towns are fading away under the oppression of a blue collar nightmare, there are plenty out there flourishing with bored townspeople looking to make a wholesome connection.
“Come into the kitchen,” she said to him with a sense of urgency in her voice. “I came in this morning and saw the freezer door unlocked.” A look of apprehension fell upon her face as she quietly whispered the next words. “I think one is missing.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” The Reverend asked with uncertainty, trying to shield himself from the true gravity of the situation. “Are you sure it’s only one?”
“Look for yourself . . . we’re screwed. I had to tell you. I’m out. . . I’m out. I’ve taken my share of all the money and I’m heading to Mexico today. I suggest you do the same.” She turned and dashed out of his sight, her heels clicking rapidly on the hard oak flooring.
The Reverend barely took notice of the sounds of her escape. Cold sweat trickled gooseflesh across his skin and his brain began to drive eagerly at the walls of his skull, looking for a quick escape. He grasped the cold metal handle of the walk in freezer and flung open the door. It dully rapped against the far wall and the sound resonated throughout the empty building.
With a laser focus, his eyes fixated upon the shelf. He sank down and dejectedly sat on the floor and slid his hand up to his temples and vigorously rubbed, trying in vain to ease any tension. The other organs he had harvested from the bored housewife, looking for a respite from her lackluster life were there. Black-market bullion he called them, more valuable than investment portfolios or diamonds. He glared at the abandoned space next to the lungs and fixated on the barren perch where the heart previously sat. 

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Rough draft of short story

This is a very rough draft of  a short story that I wrote about a man who decides to kill himself so his family can collect his life insurance benefits. I want to extend this and possibly turn it into a novel (self-exploration along the journey, etc.)


Roadside
                The engine rumbled as Danny rolled the throttle and worked the gears of his Harley through the twisting canyons. He had taken this route many times before and he knew each curve and line that flowed through the jagged granite walls. His bike’s power band was in the driving torque of 3rd gear and as he throttled out of each turn he slipped it effortlessly into 4th gear as he screamed black streaks towards nowhere in particular.
                The destination never mattered to Danny; the road was a place where he could free himself from the burdens of life, marriage, work and everything in between. Its subtle mysteries called to him and he was drawn to it as easily as migrating birds are drawn south to escape the harsh northern winters. Another sharp curve quickly materialized from the hazy road and Danny lightly squeezed the front brake lever and his foot gently pushed down on the rear brake as he pulled the clutch in and downshifted back into 3rd. He found his line and focused on his path through the turn as cleanly as an experienced sniper threads the deadly needle of mortality. Danny swung the bike out wide and swiftly dipped into the curve, rolling on the throttle hard. The bike dove down and fit itself into the sharp lines of the curve, sticking to the rolling asphalt below. He shot out of the curve at a smooth 60mph and instantly shifted back up and brought the bike to a clean 75mph hum.
                The last curve was always the best. It was the surprise ending you called halfway through the flick but just couldn’t quite pinpoint just how impressive it would be. His bike rolled along towards home. Taking him back to reality, back to his problems and, later today, back with a final solution.
                There’s a hairpin turn on the bottom end of the summit that has a beautifully deadly view. Like the siren song from mythology, the view pulls unsuspecting travelers in, promising a glimpse into heaven and lures the ill fated travelers to their death. He knew that curve all too well. He had flirted with its shapely allure many times and had ridden away safely almost every time. In what seemed another lifetime ago, he had jockeyed his powerful sport bike around these same canyon roads and was caught gazing, mouth agape, at the spectacular view a little too long and carrying too much speed. He laid the bike down and it slid off over the guardrail down to its final resting place 300 feet below, a crumpled mess of plastic, metal and fluids. Danny limped away that day but not before adding 3 broken ribs and a fractured tibia to his medical blueprint of youthful vigor and poor decisions.
                Who could have known that twenty years later that same turn would offer Danny and his family salvation? It had been calling him every ride past, every vista point stop and he always rode quickly away, never looking back to see what enticement would be offered that day. Today; however, his mind entered that curve with clarity of purpose and a conviction that had been missing from his life for a long time now. Yes, the bike was his first love and the open road held fond memories of good times past, where he explored his life, love and adventure one click of the odometer at a time but reality melted away the haze nostalgia provides that newfound clarity was difficult to accept.
There is no substitute for a life steeped in experience, and Danny had lived his free from regret and (for the most part) independent of responsibility. It wasn’t until she came into his life that things began to change and he found himself in a standoff with reality. Women have the uncanny capacity to bring about such a profound transformation in a man that he, at times, is unrecognizable. Relationships need the opportunity to grow and foster, finding true love is rare and finding a lifetime companion is even more elusive. She was both and, for a while, Danny had it all.
As he burned down the highway, Danny was transplanted to a chance meeting in a bar. He was out one night at a local bar in Monterey, California. Monterey is beautiful, scenic and full of vibrancy and life. It is 65 degrees almost every day and you can set your watch by the morning fog burning off to reveal another beautifully sunny mid afternoon. There’s a reason why people flock from all over the world to visit this area. To Danny, this was home. The spectacular views that left cash infused tourists slack jawed and awestruck were part of his daily routine. He thundered down Highway 1 and the world sped by with Danny comfortable tucked into the slipstream of his existence. He loved looping down to Carmel and over to the pass for another dangerous run deep into the valley.
Getting away from the pungent salt air and drawing down deep into the valley roads not readily known by the eager Midwestern tourists who plunge their blindingly white toes into the frigid ocean waters was an escape for him. Tight corners, poorly paved roads and the wonderful heat of midsummer, where the coastal breeze gets forgotten by the dry burn of the valley in Northern California, was the fuel for his existence. It was easy to disappear into the valley, with the rumble of the engine his throaty soundtrack to another day’s entertainment and escape.
Then, she came into his life. Young, wild and smart; a Pennsylvania girl enjoying the single freedom provided by the United States Army’s most sought after duty station. The Army found its home in Northern California during WWII, when the high beach dunes and powerful surf were a welcome training ground for the harsh coastal landings to be found on distant foreign shores. Ft. Ord had since closed and was now a state university campus but the Army still had a lesser shard of land tucked away on a small hillside area in Monterey.
That was why she was here and the reason why Danny’s whole life was destined to change. They met in that bar on a random Thursday night. Thursday was always a great night to be in a bar, the young and inhibited find a home in the $2 drink specials and dimly lit dance floor providing a chance for a hedonistic good time, if only for a night.  He was out with some friends and trying his best to ignore the annoying drunk  girl bitching about some ex boyfriend who was grinding on the dance floor with another girl and trying to take Danny (or anyone by that time) home in desperation. The drunken girl was an aggravating and he wanted nothing to do with her sloppy despair. Sure it’s always a good time getting naked and sticky with a girl who has silenced her inhibitions or trying to make someone else jealous, but other nights a couple beers and a shot or two are a much better prospect.
She was having her own troubles, putting up that big fuck off vibe that all girls seem to instinctively know how to do. Arms folded with her face smeared with the thousand yard stare while leaning in a secluded corner took some smart navigation on her part. Any potential suitor looking for a good time needed to plot his route carefully to find a good entry point.  Women don’t seem to understand that this vibe does not really work on the male brain, especially when he’s had a few drinks and is looking to get laid. She was doing her best to ignore every unfitting suitor when a friend of Danny’s came over to her.
“Hey, what’s up?” J asked her, chiseling through her facade. He had nothing to lose; he was just trying to help out a buddy. Plus, J had a knack of making girls comfortable enough to shed their reticence.   “You see my buddy over there; you should go over and ask him to dance.”
“I don’t know. . .” she weakly protested. The night was boring her and maybe a distraction was what she needed to get her out from under the cloud plaguing her night. She looked over at Danny, tattooed, in shape and California handsome and decided it might be worth the effort. She walked up to him and introduced herself.
“Hi, I’m Veronica, do you want to dance?” She asked with a slight optimistic smile on her face.
“No. . .I don’t really dance but you can have a seat if you want.” He found her attractive but too self conscious about his perceived lack of dancing abilities to get out on the floor. He was an alright dancer, in fact, he was good at almost everything he tried but it’s hard to push past the barrier of insecurity. 
 “You sure you don’t want to dance?” She said a little indignant this time. She wasn’t used to having men tell her no and this was both perturbing and intriguing at the same time.
“Nah. . .I’m good. I’m not really much of a dancer. My buddy Bear over there absolutely loves to dance. I’m Danny by the way; it’s nice to meet you.” He remembered feeling a slight flicker of energy when he touched her hand but it didn’t really register with him until much later. Memories have a funny way of embedding themselves somewhere deep into our subconscious, surfacing at their own leisure. The vibrations felt through his bike’s throttle pushed that memory into his consciousness.
Asshole, she thought to herself. Doesn’t this stupid jackass know a gift horse when it stares him in the mouth?
He was definitely attracted to her; there was something about her that he just couldn’t place. There are women who men find attractive simply because of their overt sex appeal. These are the women who grace the adolescent wet dreams floating down from the posters tacked on the bedroom walls in there parent’s houses. Unfortunately, there is a lot of insecurity in the superficially pleasing façade and, many times, a lot of bullshit that comes with dating a girl like this.  
Danny’s ex girlfriend was this type of girl, super hot (when she was younger at least, the years had not been kind since) and her early 20’s were the apex of her attractiveness. She was one of those stereotypical party girls and an absolute pain in the ass. She didn’t do anything that did not have a direct benefit for her and Danny’s friends hated this girl . . . with a passion. His ex was loud, rude, and obnoxious and they knew that she was a double shot of high grade poison that Danny had drunk eagerly. Flowing red hair, lean body and big tits she knew help power over Danny and many other men. She didn’t own a shirt that didn’t look like it was stolen from the neighbor’s children and she liked the attention it brought to her. She was always looking for a better deal and they knew that she did not love Danny; she loved the image he portrayed. Eventually, she became bored, then boring and (after a trying couple years of cohabitation) they finally decided to go their separate ways. Good thing for Danny because this girl could push his buttons like no other and he was eternally moments away from typing “all work and no play” while sharpening his axe for a leisurely winter stroll into death’s pine tree maze.
Veronica was different. She was the complete opposite of other girls that he typically found himself attracted to. Normally, he found himself consumed by the superficial. He was constantly wading in the shallow waters and Veronica was deep end. She was the area of the symbolic pool that Danny always feared. He felt that if he slid into the water and allowed himself to be submerged, he would never resurface. Veronica was cool, independent and confident; the type of girl Danny always said that he wanted in his life but (in all honesty) felt he somehow didn’t deserve.
Veronica spent the night dancing with Bear and the rest of Danny’s friends, while taking breaks to come back to where he had sequestered himself to talk. He watched her move easily with such confidence and class. For the first time that he could remember, he was finding himself attracted to a woman’s personality. Veronica was funny, smart and cool; basically everything that the girls he had dated before were not and he was finding those qualities more attractive than any combination of tan skin and tight clothing that he previously desired.
During these dance breaks, Veronica always came back to talk with Danny. They spent the evening simply talking with each other and he could tell they both were feeling a connection. Her smile told Danny that she was interested in more than a casual smoke while leaning against the rough brick walls; her smile drove itself deep into the pit of his stomach and embedded itself there for eternity. He really enjoyed talking with her. It was the first time in a long time that he had found himself genuinely interested in learning more about another person. At the end of the night, Danny’s friend J got Veronica’s number and gave it to Danny.
“Here man . . . I got her number for you since I know you probably wouldn’t do it,” said J.
“Thanks brother, I appreciate the help” Danny nervously laughed trying to mask the obvious relief that cascaded over his countenance and poured down his body. It was obvious that Danny wanted to get her number but lacked the courage to ask.
“Dude,” teased J, “you have no game. You know this, right? You’re going to owe me big time, amigo. I won’t always be there to grab the chicks for you,” he said with a smile on his face.
For a good looking guy, Danny definitely had his troubles with the ladies. He was an introvert by nature and a bit of a wallflower to boot. He was quiet and had an intensity about him that could be off-putting to some people. Some girls are into the whole mysterious loner guy, something James Dean had brought to the attention of every Sally good girl and Suzy plain panties who secretly wanted to be ridden by that dangerous, quiet, bad boy type that Danny personified. However, these girls were few and far between, especially for women in their early 20’s. The motorcycle helped a little but Danny didn’t even realize the power he had to take a girl home any night he wanted when he was younger. It wasn’t until he was a little older that he realized how many nights he missed a chance for an easy night of no strings attached sex. None of those missed encounters mattered to Danny when he fell in love with Veronica, he felt the strength in her love for him and he greedily drank that in, assuming an endless supply.
                The V-Twin engine of Danny’s Harley barked echoes off the fading walls of the highway as he pulled back into civilization. He pulled into a gas station and stopped at one of the pumps. It’s easy to get lost in a good ride, fused with the machine, pushing steadily down each twist and turn. Danny got off the bike and felt the stiffness for the first time that day. His mind had been lost in nostalgia, remembering a simpler time when he and Veronica lived for each other. Those days called to him now in a way that brought pain and anxiety. A pain that dwarfed any joint stiffness or post ride saddle burn that would diminish with a quick stretch and possibly a cold beer. This pain was a reminder that it’s impossible to tick away every trouble as easily as the miles disappear in the wind. Every time Danny discounted the emotional needs of his wife, the pain was silently building up until, eventually, it spilled over like a bath left unattended. The road held less and less of the answer as the problems of real life: money, marriage, children, compounded themselves into need for space. He had his space, every twist of the throttle allowed him an escape, or at least it used to. Veronica did not have that release, Danny was her escape and he had made that a priority less and less over the past few years. She needed him and he simply wasn’t there.
                His memories rushed in and out with every pull of a lever, every shift of the gears and each time his bike surged forward so did the recollection of their life together.  She would be sitting on the couch or sitting on the bed focused on her laptop, wrapped tightly in the bondage of concentration he felt energy surge through his whole body as he looked at her. She never told him that she would catch his look fixed upon her it made her feel wanted. The connection that tends to fade as dating turns to marriage never actually faded for Danny. Veronica had grown more beautiful every day over their 10 years together. Being an introvert, Danny never expressed that to her. He knew how he felt and how profound those feelings were but he neglected to share these feelings with her. As a result, she felt them growing apart and had begun to feel isolated and alone.
                Complacency is an evil that is a silent killer. People don’t even recognize its presence, mutely inflicting insurmountable damage without remorse or empathy. Veronica had sat across from Danny and wept, hard and long, telling him how much she needed him to be there and to be present with her. He was blind to her pain and plugged along with the carefree arrogance that only a free spirit can possess. Life didn’t get to Danny very often, shrugging off some of the more tragic moments with a perceived indifference that made others think of him as distant and cold. His father had distanced himself from Danny after his mother’s death because he felt Danny was indifferent to the family’s loss. Even many of his friends had checked out and continued on with their own lives over the years. Those sobs ricocheted from end to end inside his skull doing damage with every hit. He could feel the icy movement of despair climb inside his body and leap from place to place, imprisoning his optimism and locking it away behind a fortification of despair.
                This lethargy wasn’t working for Veronica and she had decided to leave Danny and move on with her life. It wasn’t until this time that Danny finally realized the gravity of his indifference and knew that life would not be the same. She didn’t feel like she wanted him back, even though she had loved him for years. They had amassed an insurmountable mountain of debt and Veronica felt there was no way they would be able to escape. She was being suffocated by her own reality and she desperately needed to move on with the next part of her life, which she didn’t feel included Danny. She knew that their lives couldn’t continue on the way it had been for the past few years and she felt that her only course of action was to take their two boys, pick up go.
                It was in this low state of reality that Danny knew what he had to do. He decided that it was time to be the provider that she had begged him to be. The realization of his fate slapped him like a bitter cold winter’s wind. His spirits lifted because he had not felt such a depth of purpose and clarity in a very long time.  He knew that curve had been waiting for him; waiting patiently for the day that he would need its strength and finality. That day when Danny earlier pushed the limits of his bike past that curve, its song was finally realized. The requiem called out in an epiphany and the tune hummed deep vibrations in the shrewdness of his thoughts. Danny was worth $750,000 to his family dead and he was prepared to lift the financial and personal burden they were suffering because of his choices. His face twisted into a sincere smile for the first time in months as he walked back to his bike.
                Danny’s Harley screamed down the winding road, steering him towards his fate. He pushed the bike harder through each turn than he had in years. He channeled his former self, confident in his abilities and with a purpose that bonded man with machine. The roar of the engine and the howl of the wind faded off as he plunged deeper and deeper into his thoughts. The road was a snake, each coil bringing about new memories of love and heartache that Danny had to see one last time.
                It was after J’s wedding; he and Veronica were sitting out on his front porch smoking and talking. They had just finished making love, and both were energized in that subdued fatigue that only lover’s understand. They were tired, yet wide awake. Awake to each other, in tune with their energy fueled on by the silence of the early morning. She had looked so beautiful in her red dress and, though they were there to celebrate with his friends, she was the only person he could concentrate on that day. Danny looked at her and they both knew what needed to be said. They stared at each other intently, like two shy teenagers awkwardly waiting for their first kiss.
                “I know you want to say it” she said to him, her eyes focused on Danny with intensity. He didn’t feel pressure or guilt, he wanted to tell her. It was like taking a breath after being underwater for a long time. He clawed to the surface, and inhaled deeply the start of his positively altered future.
                “I love you” he said.
                The wind spat in Danny’s face and he was shocked back to reality. He pulled in the clutch and downshifted into 3rd gear, finding the perfect line through the long right hand curve. He leaned deep and his muscles relaxed as he pushed the bike through the turn and slipped it back into 4th gear. Another long, sweeping right hand curve drifted gently into a slight left. The left hand curve smoothly transitioned into a long half mile straightaway. He slammed the throttle wide open and the bike swiftly surged past 100mph.
                “I love you” Veronica said to him. She leaned in and pressed her silky lips against his and he knew that his life had changed forever. At that moment, they realized that their lives as individuals were over and was rapidly being replaced with something more complete.
                Danny had never been as happy as he was on that day, lost in that moment. True love has a way of tattooing itself in your memories and shaping all future experiences. Thinking about that kiss as he dove hard into another tight left / right switchback, he felt his resolve strengthen. Others might reflect upon this memory and feel the need to retreat, to make an effort to reconcile past mistakes and learn to live with the consequences of their actions. Not Danny, his resolve to end his life surged through him as explosively as the fuel being pulled through the intake of his 96 cubic inch v-twin motor.
                He thrust the bike forward into another curve, and burst out the other side in a streak of chrome and black that punched the canyon walls with fury. Each mile was torn free from the road by the furious grind of Danny’s Harley. He surged towards the curve like an animal chasing down his prey. The muffled cries of the road could be heard from miles away as Danny pounded his bike towards his destiny. Fate pulled him closer to the edge with every curve, every twist of the throttle, every melted rubber fiber left clinging to the road like a child clutching its mother’s hand on a crowded street. He knew it was getting closer; it was almost his time to solidify his family’s future security.
                “Hi mom, how are you doing?” Veronica had called to talk with her mom; she needed a familiar voice.
                “Hi honey, I’m well. How are you doing?” Her mom asked, she could tell that Veronica had been crying.
                “I’m doing ok,” she said in a broken voice.  “The boys are outside playing and I just needed someone to talk to.”
                “You know you can always talk to me, sweetie. What’s going on?” Veronica’s mother asked with concern. She loved Danny but knew that her Daughter came first.  “Are you hanging in there?”
                “Yeah. . .I’m thinking about giving Danny another chance.” She hadn’t said this out loud before and she was almost trying it out to see if it still left a bitter taste on her lips as it had when it was mentioned in the past. Part of her that knew this was what she needed to do, even though there would be a lot of time needed to heal. Wounds are easy to inflict and take a lifetime to heal; Veronica loved Danny and knew that their connection should not be ignored as much it would be easier to do at this point. She trusted that he would do the right thing and once again find the man she loved.
                Danny plunged closer to his fate, riding now purely on instinct. These last few dips and curves were his favorite part of the ride and he had spent so many years mastering their subtle nuances. This was where other people could not keep up with him as he raced towards the scenic overlook. His muscles strained as they threw the bike from one corner to the next, gaining speed as each curve melted into the next.
                “That’s great news honey” her mother said. “We love Danny and I always hoped that the two of you could find a way to work things out. I’ve never seen anyone make you as happy as he has.”
“Or as miserable mom. You know how stressful these past couple years have been. When the business went under, Danny just kind of faded away. You know what I mean? He just stopped being there.”
“Marriages are not easy honey. God knows that your dad and I have had our share. I don’t even like the old bastard half as much as I know you love Danny,” Veronica’s mom said with a chuckle.
“Ha ha ha, I know mom. I don’t know what’s going to happen or if I can ever get over my resentment but I think I want to try.”
Danny drifted closer to the scenic overlook and the curve called out to him. It was his salvation and knowing that his family would be provided for eclipsed any feelings of loss. He knew his family would be emotionally crippled by this but he understood that the financial security he would be providing was something that would benefit them for a lifetime. Love won’t pay a mortgage or keep the collection agencies from taking everything you’ve worked for. Veronica was a good mom and a strong, beautiful woman. She would raise the boys right.
The scenic view was breathtaking. He had spent so many years of his life and so many miles trying to avoid its beauty. Today, it called to him and he curled his wrist downward, opening up the throttle wide. He gently slipped the bike into 5th gear and all his senses went numb except for his sense of sight. The beauty of that view, the mountains slowly melting into the expanse of the Pacific Ocean, burned itself into his mind. He stopped thinking about anything, Veronica, the boys, money, work, friends, it all faded away into the panorama that stretched out before him. The speedometer on his bike read 120mph and he didn’t have time to notice the guardrail hurtling towards him, ready to take his life. The view was mesmerizing and its beautiful siren song flooded his head with its toxic invitation. The vista charged at him, fate pulling him into his next reality. Closer it sped at him, opening up before him like a beautiful flower in a time lapsed video as the sun caresses it’s petals and entices it to open. He felt the warmth of the sun settle on his cheeks and he saw her beautiful face smile upon him one last time as he floated off into oblivion.

                

Thursday, October 25, 2012

08 Harley Nightster

So I picked up a motorcycle a couple years back and have been riding the tires off the thing. I've been wanting a bike for 20 years now and I finally decided I should pull the proverbial trigger before I get too old (not quite 40 yet). I'm a surfer and a snowboarder, your typical California kid except that I now live in Pennsylvania. Needless to say, if I didn't find something to do, all work and no play make Jack a dull boy. . .you catch my drift. It was everything that has been missing from my life until that point. It's basically stock, a few upgrades like the handlebars, pegs, some RK air shocks and a new comfy seat.
I ride this thing everywhere. I ride until it snows and then I ride once the roads are clear. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I filled up my car this summer. I love it, it is what I was meant to do. It's therapeutic. Let me just put out this disclaimer, I don't care what you ride or what you think about mine, I bought what I wanted and I ride the piss out of it. There, I feel better. It's hard to explain to people who don't ride the feeling I get when I'm on my bike. It's a serene intensity that heightens my senses yet relaxes my entire person.
The last couple years that I lived in Reno, I got into backcountry snowboarding. I'd go out with my dog, climb a peak and ride down. I loved it all. Sitting at the top of a mountain and looking down at Lake Tahoe filled me with what others might consider a religious experience. I felt a connection. Blasting down the mountain in that state of mind transformed my world into a single focused purpose. Nothing else mattered, not family shit, work, bills, etc. Nothing mattered except the ride.
I get that same feeling on my bike. There are a lot of back roads in Pennsylvania and at any given time, you can ride out and be alone. The buzz of my bike has that same serene quality that I felt in my years riding the mountains and the ocean. My tires fuse in the black liquid asphalt and I find myself in a trance. It's a hard feeling to describe and I'm not doing it justice. I think there are times in life when you just know that you're doing something that makes you happy and fulfilled. I thought when I left the west coast that I'd never find that connection again and I held a lot of resentment and bitterness. That's all gone now. Would I rather be cruising down the Monterey coastline, you bet. For now, I've found a place to call home and something to keep me sane. See you on the road, I'll be the one wearing the bug splattered grin.

4 years later. . .

I can't believe that I haven't touched this in 4 years and it doesn't look like anyone was reading anyway. 4 years later and what has changed. Billions of dollars have been spent, lost, earned, borrowed and given away. America seems worse off than in 2008 and we are continually told that progress is slow and it takes time. I feel like we stepped backwards instead of moving forward. Maybe that was the natural ebb and flow of the times, maybe it was as a result of poor leadership and maybe it goes back further than that. A few updates since my last post: we're still broke, China has us by the balls, neither political party wants to work with the other, still at war and the status quo seems alive and well. We've ridden this disgusting "Status Ho" for as long as I can remember and she's looking a little used up. Now don't get me wrong my friends, I'm not against taking the beaten down 2am girl home for a roll every now and then but wouldn't it be nice to get some "strange"? Two parties, same shit different day. We recently had a debate between all the 3rd party candidates, how many of you watched? Come on. . .be honest. . .hardly anyone. I know there is some skepticism when looking at 3rd party candidates and I understand some of the apprehension but neither Obama nor Romney have offered a solution to balance the budget and all the 3rd party candidates did. Now, I know it's easy to say that you'll balance the budget and it's another thing to have the ability to do it. Explore all the options, no matter how different it might seem or how much they smell like that reggae concert you attended when you were 18. Have an open mind and you just might bring home some strange.