Legendary Short Stories

The Lonely Biker (Part 2)

The Lonely Biker took a couple of drags from his smoke then took a look around at God's creation. He wasn't much for religion but believed that surely there must be a God out there that made the beauty of the world all around him. He thought about the past few years.

Only three years ago he was doing time for some bullshit drug charges trumped up by bogus charges made up by the District Attorney. I'll make an example of you, the DA whispered to him while he sat next to his Public Defender. His lawyer promised to swing him a deal if he would confess to a lower charge of misdemeanor possession of a pound of methamphetamine.

His lawyer said it was called HS 1137 or some shit like that. All the lonely biker knew was that his ass was landed in jail for 16 months. The Judge had mercy on him on account that he had a good job record and an otherwise good record of citizenship. Like if that dude knew half of the shit the lonely biker did he would have thrown his in jail and locked up the key.

The law didn't care much for his type. Just as long as the bodies hit the floor of their jails that's all they cared. Drug addicts, murderers, traffickers, rapists, thieves, burglars, and the like were pretty much treated the same in prison. Except perverts and molesters, of course. If you are one of those you better hope that you are well connected or you are going to be well dead and good rittance too The Lonely Biker thought to himself. Those motherfuckers deserve to die for what they all did. Anyhow, what the criminal justice system doesn't take care of with them, jailhouse justice does. But that's besides the point.

After getting out of prison it took a couple of weeks for The Lonely Biker to find a decent job. You see, nobody wants to hire a "reformed" criminal except for a couple of kindly couple folk, typically men. The Lonely Biker eventually found a job in construction setting up plumbing and doing electrical work as that was his specialty.

He learned both trades from his uncles who were talented craftsmen in their own right as were their fathers and fathers, fathers and so on into history. They were the men who were generally unappreciated, well paid, and who built this country we call the USA. They weren't all hell raisers like The Lonely Biker was in his youth but they were all known to drink their fair share on the weekend to blow off steam to regain strength from their hard labors.

Eventually, The Lonely Biker was able to save some money to buy an economical car and a used Harley Tour Glide which he rebuilt from the ground up. He had learned to fix and maintain cars and engines from his granddaddy who was a mechanic and an avid Harley rider. If he wanted to, he could have gotten a job as a mechanic but he only wanted to work on his own cars and bikes. He couldn't give a shit about working on anyone else's.

The Lonely Biker recalled the day his saw his first motorcycle. It was in his granddaddy's garage in the home where he had grown up with his granddaddy and grandma in San Bernardino, or 'Berdo as the bikers called it. His granddaddy was the proud owner of a surplus Harley Davidson WLA with a 45 cc inch engine.

His granddaddy loved that bike and restored it to factory conditions with the green finish and white star and everything. His granddaddy had been in the Infantry and was a genuine decorated war hero kind of like Audie Murphy was. Audie was a brave soldier and probably a fine man but he weren't no biker, The Lonely Biker's granddaddy would tell him.

The Lonely Biker was 4 years old when he got his first motorcycle ride. His granddaddy put him on his lap on top of his Harley WLA and it was the thrill of his young life. He remembers the wind racing through his already messy black hair and the cold wind burning his cheeks. He especially loved how his granddaddy leaned into the turns, then gunned the engine on the straight way. Those were the best of times.

The only greater thrill would be to get a bike of his own which he did when was 20 years old, the Harley Tour Glide that he currently rode but which was totaled in a motorcycle crash when he was being chased by the police. His ass landed in jail for five years on possession of narcotics and weapons possession. The Lonely Biker regretted nothing though using his time in jail to get his GED and learn a few things about life from his brother bikers in jail.

The Lonely Biker made a name for himself and was able to get his General Contractor's License with the help and support of his boss. His boss had told him that he used to be a biker also and felt akin to The Lonely Biker though he had sold his Harley years before to make peace with his old lady who had forced him out of the lifestyle.

Anyhow, that is all in the past. The lonely biker got out of jail, hooked back up with his old lady, kissed his little daughter, got on his classic black Harley Tour Glide, and rode just to this exact place if I recall properly, that's where I met him that first time. You see, the Lonely Biker is me. Fuck yeah.