Obscure nameless passionate emotions coursed through uncharted portions of my subconscious.
Aroused suspended drifting atop a black racing bike, I am ALIVE...
The course diverted momentarily by carnal desires, my chart reset for a new downtown club.
The universe appeared above as darkness overcame light. White light illuminated the unbroken corridor toward the city.
I had begun my slide back into the fast lane, pushing the black bike just over 100 mph again. A larger interstate loomed. A congruence of commuters searching for the end of the line.
I released my left hand off the handle bars and began to twist my upper body to check for oncoming threats.
An earth shaking rumble from a V-twin engine startles me as it slid into my lane.
A glance right revealed an all black ultra-glide with a chrome motor and pipes. Red LED lights illuminated the asphalt and a contrasting blue lit under his gas tank. The combined glow created a soft purple across his shining motor. It was a pleasure watching him float up next to me.
The crystal clear lyrics of "Smooth operator" blasted. The sound pumped louder than the twin fishtail pipes.
He looked over as I threw out a lazy peace sign and he did the same. We began our merge onto the larger freeway and the ultra-glide stayed glued to my right through a small hole in traffic.
More tail lights abound on this larger interstate, the glow of the city dead ahead. The yellow orb of light created by the metropolis draws us in like moths to a flame.
The song fades on the Harley and a new track replaced it, "stranglehold" begins to rock our rolling night club. I had just begun to lean forward for a more comfortable position when I noticed my exit coming up fast. Out of respect I waved to the big man and dropped back behind him, checked for my hole in traffic and leaned the bike into my new destination.
I was looking forward to talking with my boy Tom. What a story I had for him!
Tom was my only friend, his network was extensive. Being a concert slash club D.J. Tom could just about get anything. If you can think it, Tom got could get it.
At the moment we both crash in the pool house at his parents place. It's a neat little two bed cabin next to a small ally.
The club Tom's at rests in a canyon overlooking downtown. I had just gotten off the freeway and started to climb a dark winding two lane road. Lights appeared to my right as I closed in on a large packed lot of what looked like a small hotel.
The pull through drive out front is lit with a soft blue glow lighting a crowd of people out front. Just beyond I could see about 30 mixed bikes lined up in a row and spotted my Harley right in front. A chopped black and chrome 78' low rider. I slipped Tom's cycle between it and the next bike, keeping mine out front.
Tom walked up and we embraced just as I slipped off my helmet.
"Wassup bro, late as usual".
"Have got a story for you".
"Right, tell me later, how was the surf session"?
"Clean head high rights all day, wish you were there".
"Damn, me too bud".
"What's cracking up here"?
"I'm spinning for some country dude named Luke or Bryan, some shit. It's his birthday, lots of hotties inside bro".
"I met a girl".
"That the lil story you're going to tell me"?
"Yep, on the way here".
