The Sportster: Jinxed

I laid there on the hot concrete and closed my eyes, shutting the sunshine out and letting the pain take over. There was no fighting it; it was the worst pain I had ever felt. I could hear the sound of the paint stripping off the bike as it slid down the street. I was in an odd place of peace, not scared of being hurt, no longer afraid of the what if. Because the what if had just happened.

He was next to me before I realized it. I could hear more and more panic in his voice as the seconds slipped by. By the time I could hear the sirens the pain had taken me over. “It’s okay. Your going to be fine baby.” I could hear him say, but it wasn't D's voice, it was one I had almost forgotten.

I wanted to see him, to know he was really there. But I couldn't I was stuck in the blackness. Then suddenly I was some place else, back home wrapped up in the silky sheets and his strong arms. I no longer felt the pain of anything, I only felt happiness and love. I thought to myself that if this was the end at least it was ending with a feeling that always made me feel better, no matter how bad the situation was.

If Heaven was some place with him, I was okay with the end coming. But it wasn't the end. I got a second chance and in it all I realized I've been living my life wrong.

In hindsight I never should have asked D to pick me up, I should have never been in Omaha; I shouldn’t have been on the bike. My attitude and state of mind were not at a place where I should have been riding, and I shouldn’t have been in traffic period. But it happened and there is no changing what is done.

I knew all along it was going to happen. I could sense it in my bones. The impending doom hung over every ride and every second I spent with the bike. Guess we will see what happens now, if I’ll ever be able to have the courage to swing myself back on a bike.