Cherri’s motorcyclist story

Today my husband and I went out to our favorite breakfast cafe for a morning date. Sometimes we wake up thinking about Carolyn’s coffee cake, and we’ve just gotta go.

My husband got off the freeway at an unexpected place. When he stopped he said, “That was a strange feeling. I suddenly wanted to be off the freeway.”

He unwittingly avoided the half-mile stretch involved in a story my girlfriend Cherri tells.

She had just passed the offramp we took, considering the suffocating list of responsibilities she had with her home and kids and job, when a young man zoomed past on a motorcycle.

She was jealous of him. “He looked so free. His hair was blowing behind him.”

She looked at his hand. He opened it in a stretch and re-gripped the handlebar before he was out of her sight.

“I thought about how good it must feel to be him.”

Before the next offramp traffic stopped. As she sat trapped in her hot minivan, she says she imagined the motorcycle guy zipping off ahead with the wind on his fingers, undeterred by the freeway congestion.

Finally she inched past the reason for the jam. The motorcyclist had been struck. The bike lay acrumple near his body, which someone had sloppily covered.

His hand was poking out, exposed — the one Cherri had focused on.

Cherri said she must have seen him seconds before he died.

This morning his ghost chased my husband off the freeway.

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One Response to “Cherri’s motorcyclist story”

  1. Jeremy A. Says:

    I experienced watching this motor cyclist doing something no one would have probably ever imagined….

    On our way to Mexico this year we were in Tucson by the second day.
    On the freeway in Tucson we (my dad and I) were seeing a motor cyclist doing odd things while riding.
    He (the motor cyclist) was swaying his bike from one end of Lane 2 to the far end of Lane 3.
    Every time he swayed he would keep on accelerating and accelerating.
    My dad used to do some motor cross when he was young (I don’t know if he ever was young at one point in time. Don’t tell him that!) and he kept his mouth open wide as he stared at the guy in amazement.
    It seemed he was swaying back and forth for about 15 minutes.
    After 15 minutes it was almost impossible to see him.
    My dad finally said, “That guy had to be stoned.”
    After that we never did see that strange guy again…

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