It was the sound of the gravel crackling under the tires that announced him, as he eased off of the highway into the main parking lot of the fuel station.
The motor sounding like a muffled fly blowing past your ear instead of the roar of a lion trying to express dominance through noise. No need for noise if you have to ride defensively anyway in order to not be killed riding a motorbike, and with an electric one, just as much.
He eased up to the dedicated motorcycle parking in front of the restaurant which was beside the fuel station. He didn’t need petrol, he still had plenty of charge to get a lot farther yet. He was just hungry. There were plenty of other bikes there, but a few spots left near the end but still within view of the main restaurant windows so he snuggled his bike up near the others, turned off the motor, put down the stand and raising his left leg, got off the bike and removed the keys.
He peeked through the half-tinted glass to see how busy it was inside. He didn’t like crowds. Too many people making too much noise made him uncomfortable. He would tolerate it, but would avoid it if he could. He noticed it was about half full, bunch of everyday people in there, maybe waiting for the mechanic next door to finish working on their cars, or those passing through who had just been filling up their cars. But he was looking for something else. The owners of these other motorbikes. He spotted them. About ten of them, all leathered up in the corner, left of the main entrance.
He took off his helmet and rested it on the bike’s handlebar that was sticking up in the air. A gentle breeze whisked past the three day growth he was sporting, along with his moustache and goatee. It was a cool, relieving breeze. He stuffed the keys into his zippered side pocket, patted the outside of the left inner pocket, confirming his wallet was still secure and that he hadn’t lost it and stepped towards the door.
Just as he did, a man looking like an assistant mechanic got to the door first, looked at him, looked at the newly parked bike he was leaving and looking back at him. He held a thumbs up and approved the ride.
“Nice piece of iron you got there. Shiny” the mechanic said, opening the door.
“Thanks” he replied, reaching out for the door the mechanic held open behind him.
He stepped in and was greeted with the smells of everything you might expect in a diner like this. The smell of processed and overdone coffee, eggs, bacon, steak and hash browns. He could see a cooler unit off the side with biscuits and cakes.
He walked up to the counter. There were a couple, a man and woman, enjoying a meal together to his left and another gentleman further down, thoroughly enjoying some eggs and toast. A woman approached from the kitchen.
“What can I get for you love? The house special is baked beans, eggs and toast with coffee. Otherwise, we have this menu.” she pushed a tri-fold brochure towards him.
“I’ll just have eggs and hash brown thanks. A double order if you could. Plus a large mug of coffee. Black, no sugar”. She wrote down his order on a slip of paper and handed it behind her to the kitchen. She poured out a large mug of coffee. He paid as he took the coffee. “Keep the change” he said.
“Thanks so much dearie! I’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready. Just find a nice place to sit. Shouldn’t be a few minutes.”
He took the coffee and carefully glanced over the chairs. There was a group of riders, some of whom spotted him and were eyeing him up and down while others gave a polite smile and a nod. The other half had 2-3 diners who were just enjoying a meal. One of them looked at him and then at the group, possibly half curious, half timid about what might happen. He spotted a spare seat roughly in the middle, put his coffee on the table, took his jacket off and let it hang on the back of the chair and sat down.
“Hey buddy, what kind of bike do you call that?” a goading voice said from within the group. He looked over at the source of the voice, a middle aged man fitting all of the stereotypes, both good and bad, that you might have of bikers. He looked a little heavier and perhaps a little shorter than the others. He had a smile of amusement and nudged another rider next to him, who looked like he was dying to finish his meal so he could enjoy a morning cigarette and couldn’t care less what his mate was up to.
“It’s my bike. Works for me. Gets me from Point A at least” he responded, a calmness in his voice that indicated he was not up for any stupidity today.
“To where?” the biker asked, nudging another rider.
“Wherever I need to be. Wherever the wind takes me” he replied. The woman from the counter came over with his food, moved the salt and pepper shaker closer to him to where the napkins were sitting and leaned in.
“Just ignore him. He’s a regular but a jerk. His bark is worse than his bite” she wriggled her pinky at him as she walked back. Ah yes, Small Man Syndrome. Got to prove you’re the biggest and bravest to compensate.
“I can’t imagine they would let you into a biker’s club without a proper piece of iron” the guy continued.
“I’m not looking to join any clubs, membership in the Brotherhood of the Living is good enough for me.”
“Brotherhood of the Living?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s that based?”
One of the other bikers gave him a dirty look.
“Butch, shut up and finish your coffee you idiot” he said, with the tone and authority of an older brother needing to fix up some stupid thing a young sibling has just done.
“If you’ve ever take a trip, any trip, on a motorbike and lived to tell about it, you are automatically a member.” there was more to it than that, at least on a personal level for him, but that was enough for any biker to understand.
Butch looked defeated. He couldn’t argue against that. If it wasn’t for that one naive biker who asked the question, they all understood The Code.
“Whatever” Butch said.
He proceeded to demolish his meal and gulped down his coffee. That felt good. He was now running on a full tank. He got up, took his jacket, waved to the waitress and headed straight for the door. As he approached his bike he could hear the door swing behind him. He didn’t see anyone approach the door as he was heading out so it couldn’t be someone going in, it had to be someone coming out. Hopefully not one of those riders. It was the old saying of the company you keep, and he didn’t feel like testing that theory today.
“Hey buddy” a voice called out. It was not an aggressive tone, but a polite and courteous one, like you might get when someone is giving the grand tour of a house or gallery. He turned around. It was the biker who called Butch out for being an idiot. “Ignore Butch. He likes to show off his arrogant and idiotic side a lot. Typically whenever he’s breathing”.
He smiled. “No problem”.
“What’s your name?”
“Mike”. It was always just “Mike”. That was good enough for anyone.
“Chuck. Always nice to meet a fellow rider. How long have you had it?”
“About 6 months now. I’m loving it”
“Yeah, I’ve seen them around. I’ve been kind of curious about them. I’m not a purist who needs a bike to have a petrol engine. As long as it has two wheels and a motor of some kind, it’s a bike” Chuck said, admiring the electric piece of Iron.
“Gets me where I need to go anyway” Mike said.
“Sure, sure. So, do you ride with a group? A party of one is nice and all, but it’s good to have backup”
“Not right now. I’m taking a kind of personal journey right now. For the time being, I ride alone”
“Cool, cool. All good man. Well I just wanted to come check out your ride and let you know we’re not all like Butch.”
“I get it. Thanks. I’ll let you get back to it.” Mike said, putting his helmet on and getting his keys out. “Catch you around maybe”.
“You bet” Chuck said, as he walked back to the front door to re-join his group.
Mike got on the bike, kicked up the stand, inserted and turned the keys. The dashboard lit up and glowed, like a sleeping dragon ready to engage into flight. He eased out of the spot and gently put pressure on the throttle, checking that the path was clear all around him.
He moved out of the parking lot and onto the highway, ready to see where it might take him next. It might be nice to have company in the future to enjoy a highway road trip with but for now, for reasons only alluded to, it was just him. He rides alone.