She puts her hands on his shoulders, draws her knees up, closes her eyes, and is back out on the mountain road. But now she is solo. Accelerating to cruise she imagines the twisting road and hugs each sweeping curve, gently urging the machine up the mountain. The road begins to narrow and she bears down, holding tightly with her knees, gripping harder, getting a little white-knuckled, laying flat on the tank. Sweat begins to run down her chest and back, and she feels her face begin to glow in the warm summer air. The turns come quickly now and she is fighting the machine but not backing off - if anything she is riding harder yet, one with the machine. She is in the wind. Suddenly she bursts out onto a wide grassy meadow. She sits straight up in the saddle, her senses alive, every nerve on the edge, and is instantly wracked with ecstacy and the passion of the ride. Coasting to a stop she stays pressed to the tank, feeling the warmth of the machine, sensing the smells of the engine as it cools down, she feels the adrenaline tingling under her damp skin.

Snapping back to reality, she finishes her beer and walks across the bar where her guy is standing, slips a hand into his back pocket and puts her head on his shoulder. "Whatcha been doing?", he asks. "Oh, just thinking about riding. Did I tell you I signed up for the Motorcycle Safety Course? Starts next week... You going to have that shovel finished soon?"

And the smile never leaves her face.

dp