My Ride

A Story by Mito

"after the loss of my younger brother"

We rode today. Traveling down the beach front on our thundering machines, laughing and smiling as we passed the higway markers in a blur. Living the experience through all five of the senses, and at times, some of the sixth.

The beach front made quit an exceptional backdrop for us. The smell of the gulf air filled our heads with visions of pirates on some foriegn shore. Living only for the moment and not caring what the next would bring. The water spread out before us in a way, that at times, it seemed that we could ride out to that ever elusive horizon. The sound of the wind rushing past our ears, along with the hearty but steady thump of the motors, played out the rhythm of an unsung lullaby. Yes, we were truly living life in a way that we had always talked about. We were finally taking "that ride."

It's a freedom that is hard to explain to those who have never yearned for it. But this I can say, once you open your heart to the road..."the ride" awaits you. The ride has always been a place that we could go to find the answers, or ignore the questions. We were the "captains of our fates and masters of our souls".

Side by side we roar down that road, conjuring demons of the past from the cold blacktop, and leaving them standing flat footed, and in awe, at a couple of brothers that showed no concern for thier existence. Yes, this is truly living as we had always talked about it.

As the miles tick away, the comforting presence of one another was as obvious as the wind burned cheeks that we so proudly display as a true sign of motorcycle men.

Up ahead, we see a traffic light as a small speck in the middle of the road that, for that afternoon, was our playground. Civilization had found its way back into the fantasy land that for so many years, while growing up, we were always the heros.

I felt the pressure and warmth of a hand, squeeze my shoulder. Though the wind was crisp, and now, chilling me to the bone, the touch was reassuring. The welcomed warmth seem to spread across my shoulders, as if I was being embraced in a hug from a long lost friend.

The inevitable happened. We had made it to the traffic light and reluctantly, we stopped. Laughing at the curious faces that stared back at us, we would say, "If they only knew...".

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the rear window of a car. It was then that I was brought back into this ever so harsh reallity in which I live. Because, what I saw in the reflection...was ME. He was not there. There was't another motorcycle, nor was there any resemblance of that lanky fellow in a sleeveless flannel shirt on the bike with me. The smile faded from both my face and my heart, like frost from the grass on a fall morning. It was only me...alone.

As the light turned green, I began to move forward with the mindless herd, and for whatever reason, I couldn't force myself to ride at this numbing pace. I changed lanes to the left, and again to the right. I was free from the constraints of the rest and I could see open road in front of me. After breaking free from the gauntlet of cars and trucks, the wind began to chill me to the core and my mind was lost in a remorseful state of function. Then I felt the warm caress across my shoulders.

I smiled and with tears in my eyes, I said..."Good to see ya again, Little Brother."