The Sportster: First Impressions

“So how come you are getting into riding?” Harper asked as the pizza arrived at the table.

I accumulated my answer briefly, “My ex boyfriend introduced me to riding. Six blocks into my first ride I knew I needed my own bike.”

They took the answer without pushing further, I was thankful. I didn’t want to get into the long version of the story.

Blue, who’d been quiet most of the dinner, finally spoke, “D says you’ve got some fear.”

I nodded as they slid a slice of pizza onto my plate, “I’m scared of traffic.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He said sternly.

I paused, staring at my food, “Oh you mean the fear of laying my bike down.”

He nodded. He looked like the stereotypical biker. He had a long gray beard that was wind whipped so bad it was almost over his shoulder. His face looked like it had been made of leather; you could see where he wore his sunglasses. He wore a black vest with a short sleeve shit under it, I imagined he still had his chaps on to but I couldn’t tell. He rolled his sleeve up to reveal his whole arm.

It was horrible, it looked like somewhere in the past his bare skin had met some highway, and the highway had won. “I wrecked my bike about nine years ago, laid it down on the interstate.” He paused, “I didn’t let it stop me.”

Jay’s dad stared at me, “will you let the fear stop you?”

I knew I was making my first impression on all of them. I knew they doubted that I wanted to really ride; I knew they figured it had been D’s idea. My eyes met his, “I won’t let fear stop me from riding. I won’t let anything stop me.” I said sternly.

He seemed to size me up again, “hum.”

Jay looked over to me, “why did you stop showing?”

I was taken aback, I hadn’t expected it. “I stopped showing for a lot of reasons.”

“Was fear one of them?” He asked quickly.

I thought about it for a minute, there wasn’t any point in lying. He’d seen how bad I had been injured, he’d been the one who’d picked me up out of the arena dirt; he knew it was fear that had settled into me. “Not originally, but yes I’ve developed a fear.”

In my head I figured I had lost some points with the group. “There may come a time when you get hurt as badly as Blue did. Would that stop you?” Dad asked.

My eyes met Blue’s eyes. I could picture what had happened to him, I thought about it for a moment. Was riding something I’d let fear stop me from? My eyes met Dad’s again, “I won’t let anything stop me from riding.”

He nodded, “okay then.”

I made a mental note to thank D for the interrogation I was going through. The table fell silent.