Motorbikes & Madness

Chapter 1 Dyl

It had been a scorcher today and the mercury had hit the high 40s. I preferred to work at night as the heat durin' the day sometimes became unbearable here. Jack, my partner, was a brilliant businessman and kept the hires comin' in, but he was a lousy mechanic.

He had recently signed up another three hotels to our client base, which was fantastic for the money side of the business but harder for me. I was rebuildin' four 'new' motorbikes and two new quads to keep up with the demand of holiday hires, and we still needed more as we still had to turn business away.

So I was up against it tryin' to get the new vehicles up and running. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and the location couldn't be better, but when you're a single mechanic to a firm that not only repairs bikes for the locals, but also supplies bikes and quad bikes to ten hotels, there is never a dull moment. The quicker Jack's new guy gets here the better.

Jack was out takin' some tourists through the dunes on our fleet of quad bikes and I was left bein' the repair man, which if I am honest is where I would prefer to be on days as hot as this. I just kept prayin' the new raptor 686 kept up with the pace of the other quads, as I hadn't had the chance to put it through its paces yet, however the hires kept comin' in and we weren't gonna refuse'um.

Jack had hired a new mechanic who was due to arrive any day now, he apparently needed to tie up some loose ends before commin, which is somethin' I fully understood, but I wished they would get the fuck on with it, because I was worked off my feet.

I came to Managus eight years ago, wantin' to leave some nasty business behind. Jack was kind enough to take me on in his, then small, business of motorcycle repairs and quad bike hire. He was a shit mechanic but he had plans to expand the business in a place where no one had monopolised this kind of excursion, so hirin' someone like me, who could fix the quads and offer more services to the locals, helped us both.

God I loved that man for what he did for me. He gave me a place to live and a job I loved, who could ask for more!

As I lay on the floor fixin' with one of the quad's fuel pipe I heard the roar of a bike comin' up the sand road. What ever bike it was it was a rare one for these parts because the sound it made was fuckin' music, far more beautiful than the shit the locals drive or the '0 cc' push bikes we hired out.

No this was somethin' poetic. Wasn't quite the purrer of my own Ducati but it had a sweet hum, sounded old, but well taken care of.

As it came into sight I saw the unmistakable bars of a Royal Enfield, a fuckin' sweet retro that sounded like new, considerin' its age. I stood to greet the rider hopin' he wanted me to tinker with it, as it would be a fuckin' pleasure to get my hands on.

But as the driver approached I realised it was only a fuckin' woman. What the fuck. That bike was too heavy for a woman and if I was honest, and I knew this sounded sexist, it was far too much of a bike for any chic to handle.

As the bike came to a standstill, the woman flipped the stand like a pro and climbed off.
Her body was fuckin' tiny apart from a wide set of hips and tits like you wouldn't believe - far too tiny for a massive bike like the RE. She was in a pair of ripped jeans and wearing a denim jacket, which was done up and clearly showed her curves because it didn't reach over her tits. The helmet obscured her face but her skin was tanned and could be that of a local, though there was somethin' that told me she wasn't.

I left the shade to meet her, and propped myself up against the truck we had parked out in the lot. I quickly regretted my move as the fuckin' thing was so hot you could fry an egg on it, but not wantin' to seem uncool I remained there and gritted my teeth against the burn - fuckwit.