OffSeason
 

 

 My hands are dirty. oil and grime worked deep into the crevices, like oil worked into a baseball glove. One knuckle bleeds, the blood shocking bright against the black dirt. Like a black widows hourglass. I tighten the last couple bolts on the bike's valve cover. Break time before adjusting the valves on the port side.

As I stand my back creaks and my knees pop like distant gunshots. I fish a greasy rag out of my back pocket and scrub at my hands. Futile. The blood and oil mix a copper and dark taste in my mouth as I suck on the abused knuckle.

I pour a cup of coffee from the pot on the wood stove. My body greedily sucks up the heat from the stove. I pull out the pouch and roll a smoke as my mind drifts across the tasks completed; oil changed, gear box level topped, final drive oil checked, steering head bearings adjusted, spokes checked, that damn dash bulb replaced..again.

I walk over to the bike, lean against the seat and watch the rain come down outside the open garage door. By this time of year the rain has penetrated everything. The air feels waterlogged. Motorcycle magazines and manuals are damp. The rain drums on the roof and drips into a pan in the corner. The cold relentlessly works its fingers, trying to wrestle down the heat from the stove and the coffee. Yet underneath there is a hint, just a wisp thread that barely teases my senses. As soon as I turn my attention to it, it is gone. But it is there. A faint scent of growth. A bare hint of warmth not from the stove. A whores promise of long sunny days. Winter is showing the barest fatigue. A faint tension around the eyes.

The bike leans on its side stand and faces the rain with me; leaning against me like a good dog sometimes does. Ready. Willing.

I flick the butt out the door at the rain, harder than necessary. My hand slips across the smooth arc of the tank.

Soon, my friend. Very soon.

                              

Another Story?

Contents 

 
 

Text copyright 2002 Michael Hazen. All Rights Reserved.

Some Images borrowed from the internet.

Direct any concerns to: ME