“Ain’t no thing like it—let me tell you.  Wind whipping you about and the Sun setting over the coastal range. Hills of gold as far as you can see. History dripping from the land around you.  Ain’t nothing like it.  And you’re alone. You’re free to be.  The cars are quiet. People hiding in there, off in their own little space.  Let ‘em. And then there’s the trucks. Jumbling beasts. Prehistoric metal monsters bouncing all over the road. Happy to fly on by. Give me that open road. 

Well get on by and pay them no mind. Your engine is telling you to go. The bike knows.  It isn’t a thought, it’s your heart in your hand when you peel back that accelerator and head for the Sun. Ride on till those wheels fall off boy, welcome to the Holy Land.”

Her fingernails were ragged, and the cigarette sat comfortably between them. Her legs were a smooth you could see, and two young men at the bar were watching, praying for a chance to see up that blue satin dress. She was the finest thing those boys had ever seen.  She didn’t notice them. Wasn’t present to return the favor. She didn’t owe any favors.  Not anymore.  Her boss was calling. Fourth time today.  Impatient bastard. This was supposed to be her day off.  The bartender waved the phone in the air and she declined it with a glare.  She exhaled, bathing herself in smoke.  The two hopefuls glanced from the bar, convinced she was giving them the light of day, what would have been the light of their lives, but she didn’t see them.  And they didn’t see the glaze in her eyes.  That she wasn’t there.  That she was outside, high above this ragged city. She was in the rain and the steam and the asphalt. She only saw filth and no way out.  She saw the girl in the alley crying.  She saw the good men gone, taken from her and this city.  She took a long drag.

The two hopefuls jumped in their seats. Sunlight tore into the dark dive, a sliver of it reaching through the smoke and finding her narrow eyes.

“You think you can ignore me?” He was mad this time. ‘He’s always mad,’ she thought, ‘just another mad, mad man.’

“Relax Bobbitt baby,” she said, “I was just on my way out.”

The corner of his left nostril twitched.

“Get in the car.”

One of the hopefuls felt heroic. “Hey,” he gripped her boss’ coat, “You can’t talk to her like that.”  There was a flash of movement and he was yelping, warm blood flowing from his cheek, through his fingers, and on to the bar.

            She calmed the young man with a thumb on his brow. His eyes found hers and she smiled. She shook her head and stepped out into the street.  The two hopefuls watched her slide into the car. They should have known better.

“You think it’s better off?”

“What?”

“This. If it was all like this.”

“How’s that?”

“Quiet. Wild.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t have the heart to take myself out of it.”

They drank coffee by the fire in silence as the Sun found its height.

He continued, “I’m sure of it.  After this morning, I’m sure it would be better off.”

You could find them at the ocean, hearts out and legs flying. Sometimes they could be found in the forests with a hunk of meat sizzling over an open fire. You could find them in home, wrapped in blankets watching the snow fall outside the window. Laughing in the morning, smiling at night.  Yelling about cold air.  Screaming about hot.  Arguing about which movie to watch with dinner.  They were happy and looking to be for years to come. Learning to relish every day. It was one night in the many he looked over at her and thought, “If only we could hide in the pages of a book, so we could do this forever.”