Travis shifted uneasily as the old mechanic looked him over. Candy had assured him that they would hire him but it would take the approval of Sam, the weathered old mechanic who changed the tire on the Shovelhead just the day before.
“Can you run a forklift?” Travis nodded yes. Sam motioned Candy to get Tom the general manager. After she was gone, Sam moved in close and reminded Travis that he was nearly twice her age. Travis stood his ground as Sam’s intense stare pierced through the room. Finally he spoke “Must be hell of a ride.” Travis relaxed and smiled as Sam led him to the back. The job was simple enough. Uncrate the new bikes, mount the bars and stuff and top up the fluids. When Travis had two done Sam would show him the test route he would have to ride before signing off on the bike.
Travis adjusted the tire pressure on the Road King front wheel, as he watched Sam and Tom fire up a heated argument. From across the busy shop he could hear Tom’s disapproval of the longhaired biker working in the back. It was not what he wanted his company to represent, but Sam wouldn’t hear of it. Travis lowered the table lift as Sam tossed him his helmet. Before Tom could say a word the two bikers stormed out of the dealership and onto the road.
Travis struggled to keep up to Sam on the unfamiliar bike but as Sam pulled away Travis opened the throttle. Sam tore through the streets and onto the freeway when Travis finally pulled along side. The Road King felt cold and unwelcoming under Travis. The rumble of a strong V-twin, the thumping vibration that mirrored his own heart was gone. Neutered and soulless the once grand machine was a shadow of itself. Soon Sam pointed to an exit and the bikes rolled off the freeway in union.
On a side street Sam pulled the StreetGlide to stop and looked Travis square in the eye, “I put my neck on the line for you. Fuck me over and I’ll kill you.” He paused to let his words soak in. “And while you’re at it find yourself another ol’ lady because if you hurt Candy, I’ll make sure they never find your body. Do you understand me?”
Travis nodded. The two men kicked the bikes back into gear and headed back to the shop and parked them against the wall of the shop. Travis placed Sam’s helmet on his workbench. Through the swinging doors to the showroom he could see Candy. Travis let out a sigh and headed towards the forklift.
Sam was impressed with the long row of bikes Travis completed service on in one short day. As they pushed the bikes into the garage for the night he asked Travis if he wanted to go for a beer. Travis smiled at the offer of friendship. As the Shovelhead warmed Travis looked around the parking lot. Candy got off at two, and she hadn’t returned probably under orders from Sam. Sam pulled along side on a flat black Dyna done up to look like a Duo-Glide and motioned for him to follow. The traffic was heavy as the bikes sliced their way onto the freeway heading into the looming city ahead. Travis easily kept pace with Sam now, but it was obvious that Sam had spent just as much time on the motor as he did on the rest of his bike. Sam shot Travis a look and split lanes through bumper-to-bumper traffic.
The congested city buildings were starting to thin when the bikes peeled off of the freeway. The area was run down and much older than the shiny glass towers populating downtown. In the distance Travis could make out a line of bikes parked against the curb. Travis sized up the couple of guys standing outside the door as his Avon touched the concrete sidewalk. The men nodded respectfully as Sam and Travis made their way inside. The bar was dirty and reeked of stale beer and cigarettes. Travis felt at home. The waitress met them at the pool table in the back with a couple of cold beers. Travis racked the balls as Sam tipped her. The cold beer felt good after a long day of work. Travis’s arms ached. Amazed, he was surprised how quickly the body adapted to the task at hand. Just weeks before it hurt to ride. Now today it hurt to work.
Sam seemed like a good enough guy. He told Travis how he use to run with one of the big Clubs back in the day, how he had watched the dealership grow and change as he worked in the back. Travis listened intently was they played. Sam was an okay pool player, but Travis made sure to keep the games close so Sam would keep talking.
“Sam tells me you need a place to stay,” the woman purred as Travis returned from the washroom.
His eyes shifted around the room but the bark from Rhineharts outside told him Sam left him as bait for the cougar. She had a good ten years on him but her body was better then most women half her age. Travis bashfully answered, “Yes.” Travis finished his beer and followed the woman outside. As the Shovelhead snorted to life, she gracefully slipped onto the queen’s throne seat. When Travis asked her which way, she wrapped her arms around him and whispered she didn’t care.
“Can you drive a truck?’ Tom’s voice caught Travis off guard as he wrestled the bars into place on a Vrod. Travis nodded and followed Tom outside to a large moving van outside. Tom looked about nervously as he passed Travis the address and a map. Straight there. No stops, no detours, no looking in the back. Leave it there with the keys in the ignition. Travis let the instructions roll around in his head as Tom shoved a handful of bills into his hand and told him to catch a bus home.
The big truck lumbered down the street. Soon the unusualness of the request left him unnerved. Travis watched the traffic in the mirrors. Each vehicle was suspicious, either too close, maybe too far back. Each shift in the traffic twisted his insides. Travis fidgeted in the seat trying to clear his mind. It would take him eight hours to reach the destination, a rest stop, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. His mind drifted to what was in the back. All the bikes in the shop seemed to be accounted for. As the motor protested the incline of the highway Travis knew there was some weight. He eyed the police checkpoint on the side of the road. A patrol officer waved him by. Several green Dodge Caravans were lined on the side of the road as the officers checked them over. An anonymous tip called in had them stopping every minivan that fit their description.
