The "Erlkoenig"

Day 1

I climbed on my brand-new motorbike for the first time on a hot and sunny Monday morning.

It was red, a dark scarlet with a little white border. The chrome gleamed in the sunlight, and the creamy leather seat added to the allure of this lady-motorbike. I've been saving up for a motorbike like this for the past five years. When my pals went on holiday, I went to work on a farm. When my pals went out to eat and party, I stayed at home and read a book to save money. Every penny I saved pushed me closer to this motorbike. Last week Friday, I was able to deposit the money on the counter and obtain what I so desperately want. All of my efforts had paid off at that point. I will never be sorry.

When I started the engine, the exhausts made a soft, deep sound. Oh my goodness, I like the sound of power. My helmet was the same colour as the bike, and my attire was perfect for me. I began to roll out of my property and onto the road. My college was just around the corner and noticed me driving away. His gaze was fixed on my back. I'm sure there are jealous glances. But after all the sacrifices I'd made for this beauty, that didn't disturb me.

The engine was powerful, and I could feel its power between my knees, like a real horse eager to get going. After a few more moments, we arrived at the autobahn. Here you go, my beauty, show me what you're capable of. The motorbike was going like hell, 200km/h on the odometer, and I knew that bike could drive faster. But it was her first time, and I didn't want her to get hurt by some moron in a car, so I slowed down. The following exit took me into the countryside.

She felt more at home there. I knew she was capable of approaching 300km/h, but her true strength was the curve. She was a powerful racing bike that was also compact, swift, and stylish. Beautifully created by an engineer who has a lot to show for it.

Such a beast was also known as a "Erlkoenig" by others, but only a few people understood what that meant. She was one of them, and I was picked to test her before this model was mass-produced for the general market.

The majority of "Erlkoenig" machines are driven by racers, and there is less traffic at night. When they are testing on public roads, they do not have legitimate license plates. Furthermore, the machine, automobile, or motorcycle belonged to the manufacturers. All of these variables had no bearing on my appearance. Six years ago, I had a vision of a motorbike for women, specifically a racing motorbike. Not too little, not too heavy, fashionable, quick, and convenient.

Most racing motorcycles are inconvenient for women, so I devised a basic plan, went to an engineer, and showed him my concept.

He didn't like it at first, and he laughed at me. But after a few meetings and discussions, he understood what I wanted and was interested in my concept. So I paid for every srew and piece, and he created my motor-horse.

So this motorbike didn't belong to a manufacturer; it belonged only to me, but I had to test it in order to make it manufacturable. I realized that not many ladies would be able to drive it, but some would, and for the others, we created a smaller version of this beauty for more moderate driving.

This beauty was as beautiful as a race horse; full of force and always eager to display what was possible. I had the impression she could smell the oncoming twists in this landscape.

Here we have the Kniebis, a magnificent street, or road in the Black Forest. The Kniebis is well-known for its many curves and a large number of bikers racing up and down it. It had been closed for a long time owing to several incidents, but the demand from motorcyclists was so intense that they made a few improvements and reopened.

This was the moment we had all been waiting for. I gave her all the authority she required. Her front tyre shot up into the air like a horse, and we accelerated like crazy, the race had begun.

The engine was squealing with delight, and the sound she made was incredible. I sat deep on the tank to provide her with all the power she need. To prevent as much wind resistance as possible, I kept my head just a few centimeters above the steering wheel.

She lay well on the roadway, no vibrating, sliding, or engine troubles. Her body was built to drive at maximum speed through all curves. That presupposes you can hold them properly, which requires a lot of strength.

My knee was touching the road as I pushed her farther into the turns, yet the bike remained steady. When we got out of the curves, she shot forward like a rocket, straight and powerful, gleaming in the sunlight like a stage star.

That was my baby, the one I created. Beautiful like a racing horse, but also as powerful as a rocket. She was a fantastic motorbike. Simple to handle, with no hassle. She was strong, but she was also quite attractive.

I saw their glances as I passed a few motorcycles. With wide eyes and astonished expression. They'd never seen anything like this before. Of course not, this was a brand-new model, and I was certain they wanted to ride it. However, not today. This was our first road test; another would take place the following day.

Day 2

When I awoke early in the morning, the sun was already scorching.Today would be a fantastic day. Hot, no rain, no wind, and I and my bike would annihilate the dream squad once more.

I hurriedly changed and walked down to my lovely lady-motorbike. She had reappeared. Beautiful, like a golden and silver monument.

I jumped into the seat, inserted the keys into the ignition, turned the key, and she awoke with a subtle but powerful noise. The engine screamed, and I could feel her power between my legs once more. Strong and prepared for the next challenge.

We drove to the Hockenheim-Ring today. One of the most beautiful racetracks in the world. Extremely difficult for both myself and the bike. It is located in Germany's Rhine valley, near the town of Hockenheim, and has hosted the German Grand Prix. It was critical to us that the circuit have relatively few elevation differences for our tests.

It was critical to us that this racecourse included four straights of around 1.3km, followed by a more tight and twisting stadium segment. We intended to put her to the test in the rain and on slick roads. The tyres have been designed in a way that is not typical.

As a result, today was a particularly remarkable test day. I got there barely in time. My ladybike was all set. I got her to the starting line, waited for the signal and then let her go. Run as fast as you can.She flew down the straights of the racecourse like she'd done it a thousand times before.

The first curve was right there. I had to get her down so close to the road that I could hear her exhaust sqeezing on the race track. She was a genius. No movement in any direction other than the one I gave her. We were back out in a flash, charging full speed towards the moistened section of the racing track.

I wasn't sure where the wet area would be, but she ran through it like it was a normal dry road. There were no issues. The next curve appeared right in front of me. It was also full with water. I was stunned for a split second, but it was too late to stop or slow down. I sped up.

I wasn't sure where the wet part was, but she ran through it as if it were a regular dry road. There were no problems. The next curve appeared directly ahead of me. It was also completely filled with water. For a single second, I was astonished, but it was too late to stop or slow down. I accelerated. My brain was full of adrenaline, my hands firm on the grips, holding her steadily, and my knee was in the water.

I could feel the waves crashing against my bike. But she didn't run away; she stayed on course. There were no surprise movements. I got her out of the curve and straight up again, sprinting to the finish line. I slammed on the brakes hard. She came to a complete stop without incident.

What a machine. What a racing machine. I couldn't believe she passed all of the tests with flying colours. I'd never owned a motorbike like her before. During rain testing, other bikes failed, but my motorladybike performed admirably. She was the queen of them all.

My engineer took her into his mobile garage and examined her for any damage, issues, or scuffs. He completed all of the testing, which took him three hours. However, all of the test results were outstanding. She got them all.

We repeated the path twice more, and I grew more and more comfortable with this beauty. She was ideal for me. I couldn't wait for her final day of testing the next day.

I rode her home quietly, savouring the smooth ride and listening to her powerful engine. It was a beautiful day for all three of us: me, the bike, and my engineer, who never let me down when I had a new concept for this powerful motorcycle.

As usual, we came to a stop at the garage, where my engineer was waiting for us. She would receive a thorough cleaning before being reexamined for the next day. The final testing day. I anticipated it with delight and pride for all of us because I was anticipating it.

I hugged each of them goodbye and went home to relax. The next day would be extremely difficult for all of us, especially myself and my bike. We would put her through her paces in the mud, riding up rough roads like a mountain bike and then back down conventional roads.

Day 3

I awoke early because I felt nervous, which is unusual for me. I started my breakfast by turning on the coffee machine, placing a bun in my mini convection oven, grabbing some sour cream and fresh fruits.

My stomach ached a little, but I prayed for the best. I ate my breakfast, changed into my racing gear, and walked down to the garage. She had reappeared. My motorcycle's queen.

We didn't need to travel so far this time. There was a big outdoor recreation 'centre' of nature around the old house where we were residing, all by themselves. When the US Army left, they also returned nature to its original state: a jungle for children, a haven for lovers, a racecourse for mountain bikers and a testing ground for us. Everything was exactly where we needed it to be.

I drove gently to the starting line, where I waited for my engineer. He brought a chair, books, binoculars, a camera for photos, a pencil, and bike blueprints. He sat quietly, looking at me with a smile and pointing to the test course. He was prepared, as was I.

I let her growl, and we dashed onward. Directly into the large muddy field. In a split second, I was drenched from head to toe in muck. I granted her more authority because I felt she needed it. I hoped against hope that she wouldn't give up here. She was never meant to work like a dirt bike or a cross bike, yet she got out of that mud faster than I expected.

I must confess that I was relieved that we got out of the muck so quickly. It was filthy and smelled like rotting fish. We made a beeline towards the sandy'mountain' in front of us. It wasn't a true mountain; rather, it was a massive sand and rock wall that was steep and lengthy.

Her tires were filthy from the mud, and I hoped she wouldn't have any trouble climbing that steep slope in front of us. Her grip on the tires, on the other hand, was interesting. I had the impression she had cemented her tires to the sand. She climbed up with me on her back like an alpine goat.

On top of the mountain wall was a small path that I used to take by myself when I needed to ponder about difficulties. This time, I was riding it with her. The other side had a massive drop down. It was used for amusement by children. They arrived on old tires, ascended to the top, leapt on the tires, and rushed down like a cascade. There was never an accident, and the authorities stayed out of the way so the youngsters could have fun.

It was just me and her this time. I came to a halt and peered down. My stomach constricted and I became scared once more. I'd watched the youngsters having fun so many times, and it never seemed so steep, but today I was here on a motorbike capable of reaching 300km/h on the autobahn. A race bike with unique features. I wished the best for both of us. I took a deep breath, kissed my motor queen, and sped up with her, down that wall like hell.

She stayed strong as a donkey, with no fuss, weeping, splintering, or anything else. She dragged me down in a matter of seconds. We made it together as a team, with no scratches or mishaps. Wow, what a bike, and what a driver. I had to kiss her again because I was so pleased of myself and my confidence in that bike, even though I was a little afraid.

My engineer came towards us, hugging me and kissing my queen. We were both so filled with excitement and happiness that we didn't see the problem when it appeared out of nowhere. We were both standing a few metres away from my beauty when a man rushed on my motorbike, started it and took off. We were both completely speechless. I went after them after the terrifying moment, but it was pointless. This bike was swift as heck and had proven himself capable of handling any terrain.

There was only one way to get it back: we required police assistance. We proceeded to the next police station in my engineer's old car and reported the stolen bike. The description was really specific, there were images of her attached, and when we informed them what this bike could accomplish, the first thing that happened was laughter. What else could it be? Nobody had ever seen a bike like this before. As a result, a brief video of the performance changed their minds about the matter.

The police informed us that this was not the first time a bike had been taken and that we should be warned that they may never find it. That was unfortunate because this bike was a "Erlkoenig" and we needed it back as soon as possible.

We left the police station with tears in our eyes, hoping that this bike would be discovered soon.

We didn't want to go to a friend's party tomorrow night, but we didn't have a solid reason to say no. So we parted ways and agreed to meet again at 7 p.m. that day.

Day 3

I awoke late that day with tears in my eyes, severe migraines, and the feeling that I had lost a kid. My lovely motorbike had been my kid, my queen, and now she was gone. Perhaps forever, perhaps not. But what if she was harmed and couldn't be repaired?

Maybe some moron disassembled her in order to sell bits of her for a few dollars? Just thinking about it made me sicker. What a dreadful world we live in. Friends called me that day to see how things were going with the bike, and when I told them what had happened, they felt sad for me.

I merely wanted to take her on a country road trip from the Black Forest to the Odenwald and back across the Autobahn today. A six-hour ride with numerous coffee and photo stops. Only the two of us.

But she was gone, taken from a moron, an idiot with no personality. I could only hope for the best. Even though I had saved it for five years, the money I put into that endeavour didn't bother me. But I felt sorry for the fate of this magnificent, gorgeous queen, The "Erlkoenigin" to be specific.

I attempted to sleep a little and read a book I usually enjoy, but my mind kept returning to her, my motorbikequeen. I changed into my old jeans and walked down to the garage to see whether my engineer was also there.

He was, of course, present. I peered through the small side window and saw him sitting at his desk. He cupped his hands around his head, tears running down his cheeks. I knew he loved her as much as I did, so I waited a few minutes before knocking. I didn't want him to be embarrassed by his crying.

He seemed pleased to see me, and we both hugged one other before breaking down again, this time jointly. He informed me he had scoured the streets all night looking for her, but he had failed.

I told him that he would find her. If he had seen her, it would have been a miracle. According to the authorities, most stolen cars or motorcycles are exported out of the nation the same day and are never seen again.

So, whatever we do to find her, we should leave it to the cops. That was not what we wanted, but it was our only option. When I asked him about the designs, he said they were in a safe that no one could access. This was at least reassuring.

We began to calculate how much it would cost to build a second motorbike that was similar to the one we had lost. The expenses would be little lower than the first time, but still close to $100,000.

These $100,000 did not include our labour time; they were only for the materials. But we've already planned for it. We both had no desire to go to that party tonight, but we had no choice. People anticipated us to be there and spread the word about our stolen motorbike.

So, after 4 hours of planning and working, I headed home to get ready for the party. We met at the corner of our street and headed to this horrible party together. The mansion was bathed in light, lanterns hung from every tree, and we could see two large open flames.

We had never been inside that house before, and after welcoming the host, we took a tour through the gardens. An Italian architect and his wife, a mad Mexican historian, designed the gardens. The end result was both extravagant and magical. In the centre of this vast landscape, a swimming pool with floating lights was also erected.

We paused for a moment, staring at this massive swimming pool, when we heard a startling sound, a big bang, terrified people yelling, police sirens and before we could take another step, my beauty queen of a motorbike went over our heads, full speed into that pool.

We both dived into the pool without even thinking, hoping to prevent her from drowning. We had to let her go since she was so hefty.

Police came at the pool to look for the thief, but he had already left.

The day finished with a crane removing the motorbike from the pool, much to the delight of all guests, and when I put the key in the ignition, she awoke, roaring, eager for a ride.

We both hopped atop her, drenched but relieved to have her back. We had a wonderful ending to the day.

Roar, raor, roar, my bike,

Are you ready for a hike.

You are wonderful and fast,

Your strong beauty will last.

Whoever will be riding you.

Will forever love only you.