MOTORBIKE MAN

Richard woke up. He looked at his phone, touched himself all over to ensure he was still alive, had a shower, and brushed his teeth. He walked to the café in his pyjamas and bought a coffee. He smiled at a dog, and walked home.

He sat on the couch. Nothing happened.

Nothing ever happens.

Everything is always happening, he thought. Where is it happening? What the hell is wrong with me? I’m forty, single, no mortgage, no car, no debts, no love interest; no kids. What am I doing with myself?

After a short period of thought, he dressed. He pulled on some boots, wore a thick jacket, and walked down the street. A woman from across the road looked at him and he looked back, instead of putting his head down.

She didn’t smile, and neither did he. But they looked at each other all the same.

When he reached the corner of the High Road, a man got off a bike, swore at a dog, and ran into an accounting office. Richard noticed the keys were still in the ignition and without a thought rolled his leg over the seat and sat down. It was as if he was conscious of his actions, but didn’t attempt to stop them. He felt the hard rubber handles and pulled on the cold brake handles. He turned the key: VROOM! It went.

This excited Richard. He pulled the left handle with his left hand and the right handle with his right hand. Then he kicked his foot down on the kick starter pedal. He released both hand from the handles, and rolled his right on the handgrip; and that thick rubber shook in his hand as the bike got up and went. Woosh. So Phallic.

He drove the bike to the where the bars were. He stopped out the front and ignored the parking sign. A man in a fluro yellow jacket looked at him and began to approach. Richard walked off and into a pub. He sat down and ordered a beer, then a whiskey.

"Names Richard" he said to a lady across the bar. "Hmmm?" She replied.

Hi, I’m Richard, I’m nuts. She smiled and glanced out the window, then looked back. I’m Rachel. They fucked each other in the bathroom.

"I have to go." Richard said.

"No, don’t" she replied.

"I must."

"Ok, but give me your number."

I don’t have a phone" he said. But he wrote his full name and address down on a napkin with a pen given to him from behind the bar by the publican.

Rachel sat back down and smiled. She crossed one leg over the other.

Richard, hopped back on the bike, pulled a parking ticket held to the visor with sticky tape, scrunched it up and threw it on the ground. Then he got off the bike, picked the scrunched up ticket back up of the ground and put it in the nearest bin.

He drove to a shopping centre. He drove right out to the back of it. There were no cars around, so he stopped, then Richard revved the engine as far as it would go. ARGHHHHHH! It yelled. He yelled too. Then he let the handles off a bit and let go of the clutch. The wheels spun but he didn’t move forward, only in a circle; with one boot flat on the ground. Around and around went Richard. His heart pumped. His thighs hovered over the seat. His left foot still on the left pedal.

Smoke and the smell of burning rubber filled his nostrils.

Then he stopped. The dirt and dust and burning smell settled. He looked up at the sky, the sun shone on his face, which was glistening with sweat. A cloud cast a short cheerful shadow over his eyes as he opened them, and he took a big deep breath.