She Came Out of the South

She came out of the south, straight up the interstate to find him, on a chrome and metallic red chopper that she inherited from her daddy after he died a year ago. He taught her to ride before he died. “One last thing before I go”, he said and so he spent the last six months making sure that she could ride it well, before he gave it to her. She waited until the weather north cleared and spring came, then she decided to let out. She couldn’t stand waiting any longer. The power of the bike and rumble between her legs felt good; she opened it up and the acceleration and wind pushed her head back; pushing her deep into her seat. The rush of cool morning air against her face was exhilarating; the air smelled of freedom. Her hair the color of straw whipping in the wind, looking badass in her mirrored shades, black leather chaps, vest and engineering boots. A thirteen hour ride do north, but she knew that she’d make it in less. She knew too that he would never expect her to show up at his doorstep and she relished the thought of the expression on his face. How little she knew his true thoughts about such a moment; he knew all too well that they would meet again someday. So it was no surprise to him when he saw her turn the chopper into his neighborhood that early Friday evening as he was letting out the dog.