C3!CJJ:
That riders of th e n ight were
call ing m e ou t, and I answered
th eir tempting hail.
It was the seductive m idn ight
m usic of Kerkets and Su per'Frapps.
Un seen fl ights of h ig h -w in d ing
fours. St raigh t-p ipe bursts of gowy
tw ins. I heard them in m y sleep , rich
and v ibran t and arous ing -;- out
along th e lon g neon boul evards,
from far up in suburban tuiisti es,
down am ong th e winter-thinned
woo ds and 'round ol d Dead Man 's
Curve. And - yes! - off on th ose
endless, unl ighted highways. Th ey
were calIing in cho rus, pleading,
beseech ing m e to rise up and jo in.
Then, sudden and radiant, came th e
blaze of a hal ogen headbeam! I was
out th ere and in it! Riding with
th em! Part of that singu lar rush
inside a rocketing capsule - motor, cycle and rider a fast cocoon, praying
some wild thing wou ldn' t invade my
course and make th e encoun ter a
tragedy of nature, a grim fam ily
footnot e. Out th ere in th e night I
thanked God for the deer w histle and ,
w ide sw eep of running lights. And,
yes! That welcome w ind-heat from
my ow n cylinder stoves, grop ing for
th e en gine with th ick gloved hands.
On in to wee hours we rode, up over
h igh rid ges, dropp ing through
m isted valleys. Th e n ight mania we
shared howl ed on into a predawn
f reeze wh en fi ngers lock ed r ig o r
mortis-like about th e grips. St opp ing at an all-n ight cafe, rem ot e and
desperate, ou r on ly option, even a
th ird cu p of coffee wou ldn 't steady
the bon e-deep shakes. Our new blue
daw n pledged th e tint and bite of
glacier ice. Riding in from th e dark,
though chilIed and sleepy, we were
slow to let go of that fabul ous n igh t.
Th en a l ift in g sun to ok to its
tim eworn w ay, m elting our illusions. N ow] cou ld see how dirty m y
bik e realIy was, pa inted in m ud ,
p eppered wi th bugs, no lon ger th e
brightflash night lan cer leav in g
sound and flam e after its shape was
gone. I limped home and park ed my
motor just as sh e was. And went
inside. And th ere rem embered an old
movie lin e, f uII of. wi II and unity,
and of promise fo r tomorrow w hen a pla yer of that long-ago screen
spok e from parched but in toxicated
lip s his unerasable wo rds. " Wake m e
at sun down, Mother! I'm tired and
wanna go to bed."
William Edgar
