Flight on the Back of a Kawasaki Vulcan

The black metal shimmers in the afternoon sunlight. The shadows cast by the foliage of the nearby trees dance on the rich green of the lawn. I approach the coherent concoction of metal pipes and rubber as an amateur. My heart begins to race with anticipation as I sling a leg over the vehicle. I sit. The heat from the sun-cooked leather cushions burns and sizzles on my skin through dark denim jeans. I wince for a moment but settle into the cushion as the seat cools on my thighs.

Insert the key. The mess of gears and wires come alive as the engine revs and rumbles beneath me. Pull forward onto the asphalt road. Sweat trickles gently down my cheek. The heat rises from the road, making the fields in the distance mirror the river we were leaving behind.

Acceleration. The wind makes my eyelashes flutter, giving the surrounding proscenium takes on the quality of an old-time movie, flickering like individual frames on a filmstrip. Every so often I release my loose grip on my father's belt loop to adjust my black-rimmed glasses for fear of them flying from my face to skitter on the rushing pavement below. Strands of brunette that had weaseled their way from underneath my helmet whip across my nose.

We pass verdant fields filled with grazing horses of all shades and breeds. Some looked like they had been in the field much too long as they waddled about the pastures. I look above. The clouds stretch across the cerulean sky, rolling like cotton. The cottony clouds were flecked with fluffier ones, like globs of white frosting on an ivory painted cake.

The wind cascades over my, making the sleeves of my black t-shirt flab against my wind-numb arms. I lift my arms, spreading them wide like the rolling hills of the emerald pastures. I imagine myself flying high above them; the plump horses whinny and rear up at the rush of wind brought by my wake. I close my eyes and let the rushing breeze whip and caress my skin. In my mind I'm looping the clouds, turning barrel rolls and grazing the fresh sun-warm grass with my fingertips.

I'm suddenly jolted back to reality as I fall forward slightly. The Vulcan had come to a halt. I sighed and hopped off the leather cushion and back onto solid ground. My legs feel like jelly as I wobble my way down the steep concrete driveway to the garage. I unbuckle the cloth strap from the helmet and gently toss it to my father's open hands. With a still numb forearm, I wipe the trickling sweat from my brow and heave a near disappointed sigh. My flight on the back of a Kawasaki Vulcan had come to an end.