0
This story is written for women as well as men, because Hope was a lady years ahead of her time. She played tackle football with Ronald Reagan and his brother, was on the boys pole vaulting team, built her own home completely and attempted to fly around the world. She also rode to Brazil on her Harley by herself.
If I get enough positive contacts, I will post the entire book here as a gift to the members of this group. Please feel free to post your comments. Thank you jetski
Page count 15 pages
HARLEY'S CAN FLY, CAN’T THEY?
The young motorcyclist occupied her thoughts while racing against time by concentrating on how much had happened over the past year. Hope was flying across Northern Illinois on a Harley Davidson, in a desperate attempt to find the man who had kidnapped Beth, her fourteen-year-old niece, and as far as anyone knew, was now headed for Mexico with the young girl. For what purpose, no one could be certain Robert hadn’t shown any extraordinary likeness for Beth, but still Hope was aware of how fourteen year old’s were used across the border. The thoughts of Marriage, prostitution, among others made her shudder.
Two years before this she had been intent on flying around the world, and begun taking flying lessons until the money ran out.. Hope hadn’t realized how expensive flying would be, and so began building a house to help fill the void. This led to many visits to the library, learning what was needed to know, and what couldn’t be found in books, was gained by inquiring of local tradesmen. The plumbing and electrical installations had been on target to be completed this year, but this Robert business had taken it’s toll on those plans.
It wasn’t long before Hope was passing through the town of Rochelle, Illinois, and then it was only another ten miles to DeKalb and the Northern Illinois College campus. What would happen from that point on was anybody’s guess. Hope’s only clue was the message Robert had left saying he had kidnapped Beth, and if anyone wanted to see her again, the police must be left out of the kidnapping. That statement was re-enforced by the visit from a strange young man.
When the campus buildings came into view Hope began searching the areas, hoping to find something that might offer an indication to Robert’s whereabouts.
.
Riding into a circle of large buildings, a sign on the lawn boldly proclaimed ”Administration.” This gave her an idea, so she parked the Harley at the curb and followed the long curving sidewalk that led to a large, heavy door with small window panels in it. Sounds of boots striking the hard, polished, marble floor echoed of the walls as she walled the long hallway. The college building had retained the odor of an old library, much to Hope’s liking. Finding the receptionist’s office, she asked where one might normally find Robert Holloway at that time of the day. The prim, official speaking woman gave directions to the Language Department along with a little map.
“Motorcyclist eh?” The receptionist asked in a cool tone as she handed Hope the map.
“You got it sweetie,” Hope responded, spinning on her heel and walking briskly towards the door.
It took a few wrong turns before the right building was located. The closer she got to the door, the faster her heart beat, not knowing what to expect. With no plan and no idea if Robert, her niece, and the other man that was traveling with them were there, the moment for truth concerning Beth was about to prove itself. Inside the department hall were a number of classrooms, and one of the classrooms were filled with people, all apparently involved in a spirited conversation. Stepping through the door, the chatter suddenly stopped as they turned and stared. Hope supposed it was her mode of dress, but ignored the stares and asked, “Could someone please tell me where I might find Robert Holloway?”
A tall, blonde woman left the group and approached the young motorcyclist.. “My name is Heidi, if you would please follow me we can talk,” gently laying a hand on Hope’s shoulder.
Immediately Hope liked the woman, but sensed something was wrong. “What’s wrong? Where’s Robert?”
“Please,” the young woman said, reaching for the doorknob, “let’s step outside where we can speak more privately.”
Once outside the two women stood facing each other. Heidi spoke first and asked if she was, in fact, Robert’s fiancée? When Hope confirmed this, Heidi launched into an explanation, speaking low while looking around them from time to time.
“He was here earlier this morning with another man. The man stayed in a funny looking panel truck while Robert came inside. He took some things from a closet that was used for storing books and stuff. He said the two of them were going on a trip and needed to collect a few items. Then he asked for the most direct route to New Orleans. Hope, something is wrong, isn’t it? I know him only as a classmate, but I can tell you I don’t like the rumors that are being spread around campus.”
“Like what, for instance?”
“For instance that he is a communist!”
Hope was shocked by the statement and it showed.
Heidi pressed the question, “ I have the strongest feeling that something is very wrong. Is Robert in fact a communist?”
Hope had decided beforehand not to reveal any of the events that had led to the college trip, not wanting to take a chance on bringing the police in on the matter, at least not until Beth could be located.
Denying that she knew anything about the rumors, Hope asked Heidi one last question before leaving. “Did you happen to notice anyone else in that black panel van?”
“No, although for a moment I thought I saw the back of someone’s head, sitting beside the man riding with Robert, but I can’t be certain, it was just a glimpse. It could have been anything.”
Hope thanked the young woman and explained that she was not at liberty to divulge too much at that time, but hugged and reassured her that everything was under control.
Minutes later she headed back west towards the town of Rochelle, stopping at a gas station before locating the intersection of highway Thirty and Interstate Fifty-one.
The service station attendant came out and voiced a greeting of “Good-day miss, may I help you?”
“Yes, please fill both tanks,” came the answer.
While he topped off both gas tanks, Hope took a US map from one of the saddlebags, and following highway fifty-one, saw that it ran straight south to New Orleans. The run was almost uninterrupted, with only several cities providing any hindrances. The question Robert had asked Heidi—the most direct route to New Orleans, was extremely important. The one singular plan now was to overtake the panel truck and then play it by ear from that point on. The plan wasn’t the best, but it would have to do until something better presented itself. Refolding the map, Hope paid for the gasoline, thinking the black panel truck might be somewhere on Highway Fifty-one at that very moment.
Adjusting the advance lever of the ignition, and lifting the foot pedal of the kick starter, Hope twisted the throttle about a quarter of the way, and came down with all her might on the large v-twin motor. It responded with a loud “Bang!”, and a small cloud of black smoke rose from the tail pipe, all the result of a backfire.
Immediately Hope realized the spark advance had been set too far—a bad result from hurrying. In quick succession the pedal was brought to the top of its rotation again and again, each time it answered with a deadening “thud, thud, thud.” Because of Hope’s size, and the 74 cubic inch engine, it didn’t take long before exhaustion to set in.. Finally, with arms folded across the handlebars, she hung her head in total despair.
“Oh Lord, what have I done, I was so close.”
The attendant had noticed what was happening, and came out to ask if he could help. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Do you know anything about motorcycles?”
“Well, I am the garage mechanic here, and engines are engines.”
“Please, I am in desperate need to get to New Orleans as quickly as possible. I will pay whatever you ask if you will only help me. My fiancé is in trouble.” Hope lied.
“Ok, tell you what I can do. I’ll call my son to come down and watch the drive while we try to find your problem. I too, am a biker. I ride with the Rock River Riders Association, and my name is Dick Moss,” he said, wiping his hands on a grease rag and offering one
.
“Hi, I’m Hope Hinds, and I ride with the Rockford Motorcycle Association.”
“Oh yes, we know them boys,” Dick answered, smiling through his long, drooping mustache.
Together, they pushed the Harley into the service bay and Dick phoned his son. Within fifteen minutes a young boy arrived and Dick explained what needed to be done. Then he returned to the service bay and set to work examining the wounded Harley.
Using her own limited knowledge, Hope helped with diagnosing the problem. “Now, if only it didn’t jump timing,” Dick said softly as he probed about the engine.
“Oh please don’t say that,” Hope pleaded, and then said a small prayer under her breath.
The time slipped quickly by as Dick tested and checked the systems of the Harley. This meant that with each passing fifteen minutes, Robert and Beth where getting further and further away. It had been almost three-quarters of an hour when suddenly Dick said, “Hello. What’s this?”
“What?” Hope asked, leaning over his shoulder, her nostrils filling with the familiar mixture of grease, gasoline and sunshine. “I could become great friends with this man,” Hope thought, feeling a tingle of excitement.
“This screw that holds the point set in adjustment is loose. This is allowing the timing to move. The backfire must have loosened it. I’ll reset the point gap and tighten it down.”
After clearing the carburetor, the Harley came to life once again with a mighty kick from Dick’s large frame.
Hope paid Dick and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and told him she would stop by to visit him on the next trip to Rochelle.
“You do that,” was his answer.
Swinging back in the saddle, the Harley and young woman was soon headed south on highway fifty-one.
***
Hope’s first concern was a way to make up for the lost time…it was true the Harley could fly, and the route for the most part was a good, straight run, so fly they would. The second concern was for the amount of daylight left, and what could be done once it was gone. The speed would have to be cut considerably because of the dangers present at night, but the course being set, she just shrugged off the possibilities and pressed on, estimating there was at least seven hours of daylight left to travel in. How much of the eight hundred mile trip could be make in those seven hours? Well, Robert and his van was about to find out, because she had accepted the challenge.
Adjusting the goggles, she twisted the throttle until the Harley’s speedometer was reading eighty-two miles an hour. Yes, the Harley could fly, but how well and how long was the question? Since there was no speed limit on the open highway, at least in the state of Illinois, and then only within the city limits, Hope felt the surge of freedom and smiled, knowing that there was almost no other vehicle on the highway that could match the motorcycle’s speed.
The first noticeable change was the wind. At the present high rate of speed, it pulled the skin back from one’s face and tried to pull the clothes from her body (lesson learned in wearing a leather jacket), and distorted your hearing. The next item of interest was the telephone poles--they looked like a picket fence, while the rest of the scenery was nothing more than a blur. A distant car came rushing up at such a high rate of speed that she was forced to brake severely to keep from hitting it. Swerving into the opposite lane, Hope passed the slow moving car, and then brought the Harley back to its top speed of ninety-four mph. For the first several miles the speed was intimidating, but the longer it was sustained, the more tolerable it became. Hope found it wiser to continue slowing down to fifty whenever it was necessary to pass a vehicle because the possibility of losing control was always there when leaning the bike to change lanes.
The world definitely changed when one traveled at speeds above seventy miles per hour. Hearing returned to almost normal and with it one was able to recognize a rhythmic singsong as the moving parts of the engine fell into a natural rhythm, even at the top speed of ninety-four mph. The seventy-four cubic inch engine was a side valve engine, and at ninety-four mph it developed what was referred to as valve flotation, which caused the singsong rhythm, and also indicated it had peaked in horsepower and engine RPM’s.
It was a long held belief that machines have a certain life force of their own. Hope began speaking to the Harley, encouraging it, coaxing it, and assuring it that everything would be all right. It was assured that because of what it was doing, it was helping two lives, hers and Beth’s. Anyone else might have thought these actions were out of place, maybe a little crazy. She, on the other hand, actually felt a spiritual connection with the powerful motorcycle, and was sure it was responding to the soothing words of encouragement. Even though it was a very warm afternoon, the wind flowing from the high rate of speed was cool, and the aroma of the countryside helped to heighten the intoxication of the fast pace. Never before had the Harley Davidson been pushed to that type of performance. It had been reserved as a private dream; but now there was a reason to release that dream, and a frantic need to use every bit of horsepower the bike possessed. Hope knew that Beth’s life was in danger, and this run to New Orleans may be the only way to save her.
“Run, my beautiful steed, run,” she spoke into the on rushing wind.
Piloting the Harley along the concrete ribbon, Hope wondered about any interference that might come from the police, whether they would be state, county or city? There was no doubt that a police car could not stay with the bike, but what about the highway patrol and their motorcycles. They too, had the new Harley 74 as well as the big Indians. What then? Again, only time would tell.
Meanwhile, attention was given to the pocket watch and the list of towns taped to her fuel tanks. This method of timing showed what town she was coming to and how long it had taken to travel between them. This system also told how much time had been spent on the road and when to push for the most possible speed.
The first sizeable city was Decatur, Illinois, which completed one hundred and thirty-three miles, the first leg of the run to New Orleans. Decatur presented no traffic problems, but still Hope kept to the speed limit when coming into town and leaving. It was only when safely out of the city limits did she continue her high rate of speed. The next town on the list was Carbondale, Illinois. Once through this town Hope had completed another one hundred and forty-two miles.
The traffic on Highway fifty-one was light, perhaps because it was a Monday, which was a blessing. What traffic there was, however, coming or going, passed with stares from the drivers and passengers, pointing fingers at her. It was a reaction due to the fact that her long hair was trailing behind in the wind, letting the world know that she was in fact a woman on that Harley, and not a man.
Coming up over the top of a small hill, just after leaving the town of Cairo, Illinois, an object smaller than a car was coming towards her, and instinctively the brakes were applied to slow down. It had been a correct assumption of the situation because the object was in fact a motorcycle cop, an Illinois Highway Patrolman. As they passed by each other, Hope waved, and the unexpected happened. The motorcycle cop slowed down and turned
around. As he did so he flashed his lights, wanting her to pull over. Hope could only think. ”Now what?”
The patrolman was already standing beside the bike by the time the kickstand hit the ground.. “Good afternoon ma’m, beautiful day for a ride isn’t it?”
“It is that, all right.”
“Heading anywhere special?”
“No, just thought I would spend some time getting to know my Harley,“ Hope answered coolly.
“Well, I can’t fault you for that. I noticed yours and mine are the same model. And you being a woman and all. I don’t mean any disrespect or nothing, but you are the first woman I have ever seen riding a Harley by herself.”
“I completely understand your statement, officer. I hear that a lot, from both men and women. It would have been easier if the Lord had made me a man, but since he didn’t, I still try to do things that I truly enjoy.”
“Well, I’ve got to hand it to you. Maybe more women should have your spirit. I’m sorry, my name is Johnny Mathis,” he said, offering his hand as he continued to talk on about motorcycles.
Hope endured the polite conversation, but wished he would move on, because she was losing precious time each minute he stood talking. Noticing how warm it really was, she unzipped her leather jacket. Hope was forced to put forth her best manners as the motorcycle officer continued speaking, and she in turn replied by smiling and shaking her head.
. Finally Officer Mathis said, ”You take care now and have a good trip. I just wanted to stop and say hello to the first lady motorcyclist I have ever seen. Good day now”
“Good day officer, and thank you for stopping.”
“Thank you,” Hope murmured under her breath, and deliberately took extra time fooling with the jacket, starting the Harley, and slowly pulling back out into traffic once again. As soon as the Highway Patrolman was out of sight, the bike was flying south were it was hoped Robert might be. The run down state would consume the major part of her trip to New Orleans, and after checking the watch, the list, and the speedometer, saw that she was making excellent time.
While studying the list of towns, she noticed that she would soon be leaving the state of Illinois and crossing into Tennessee. The first town in the state of Tennessee would be Union City. So far the total distance covered was three hundred and sixty-four miles, in five hours and 26 minutes. Not as good as it should be, but not too bad, considering the one stop in Carbondale for gas, and a second time by the Highway Patrolman. Hope planned to make up for some of the lost time before the next gas stop, which would be in Union City.
Estimating the total time used so far was five and a half hours, she hoped there would still be another three and a half hours before sundown and darkness. Riding in the dark was not a pleasant thing to look forward to, but it was not a reason to call it quits. The plan was set in motion, and there could only be one out come to this adventure, and that was finding Beth. Any other situation that arose that might block her path would be dealt with one at a time..
On the outskirts of Union City, Tennessee, a small service station was spotted, meaning it was time to fill up again. Hope thought it best not to let the gas tanks run too low, for fear of not being able to find another one when it was needed. Instead, the time was sacrificed for the extra few minutes it took to gas up, knowing it would pay off in the long run.
On deciding to use the bathroom, the gas station attendant was given two dollars in advance. Hope had to spend more time in the ladies room than expected, and a pounding on the bathroom door brought her out into the afternoon sun only to see a horrible sight. The motorcycle was gone. An overly excited service station attendant was yelling and pointing to a path that led over a small hill.
“What’s wrong? What happened to my motorcycle?” Hope screamed.
“Those four men. They came walking into the station right after I finished fillin’ the gas tanks. They said ain’t no girl deserved to be ridin’ no motorsickle. No sir, they said, motorsickles is fer men, not women. They just pushed it on over that hill.”
“Where does that path lead to?”
“It goes to an old abandoned farm, jest a short piece from the end of that path. You want I should call the police, lady?”
“No, no, I’ll be back in just a little while. You keep the change from the gas, ok?”
Running across the road and up the hill, she made the trip just as the four men could be seen pushing the motorcycle into an old barn. Carefully, silently creeping close to the big double doors of the barn, she was able to hear the men talking.
“Hey, I’m telling y’all it ain’t no problem. I’ve knowed them boys most of my life and I know they’ll pay us good money fer it. Ain’t no danged woman got no right fer ownin’ a motorsickle anyhow. We need to git over there and bring them back right away so’s we can git our money.”
Hope got closer to the ground as the men left the barn, leaving by a pathway that led them away from the barn and the motorcycle. As soon as they disappeared she left her hiding spot and pulled open one of the doors. There sat the iron steed, exactly as the four men had left it. Moving quickly, Hope pushed it out and down the path to a spot near Highway 51. Parking the bike, she ran back inside the barn where with a small pile of trash and several matches, set fire to the inside wall of the barn. Then she ran out of the barn, bolted the big double doors and ran to the Harley. After pushing it down the hill, she jumped on, and when it was far enough from the gas station, kicked it in gear and soon was flying south once more.
Hope never learned what happened at the barn, but was sure the four men had some explaining to do about the fire. “That’ll teach those boys a lesson, they weren’t too awfully smart,” she chuckled to the Harley while motoring towards the town of Dyersburg, Tennessee, thirty miles further down the road.
The next large city was Memphis, Tennessee, which took almost a half an hour to pass through, and then on to the state of Mississippi. Approaching the city of Jackson, Mississippi, the sun began sinking below the horizon and the daylight turned into twilight. This was the time she had feared most, knowing that pushing for speed could lead to danger. It was at this time the idea of failure began to grow, but then something came into view that brought her hopes alive--it was an odd looking black panel truck.
Pushing the Harley as much as possible, Hope slowly caught up to the truck. It was the sight of the Mexico license plate that caused her heartbeat to quicken. It was now obvious that the black panel belonged to Robert and that meant Beth would be inside. Now it was a matter of following the truck close enough to keep it in sight without making the fact known Reassuring thoughts kept spinning in her mind, saying, “ it was the right truck, it is the right truck.,” and somehow Beth would be freed from Robert and at the same time involving the police.
“Now all I have to do is be smart and wait for an opportunity to set some sort of trap.” Hope told the Harley.
The flow of traffic was light, which presented no problem in following the truck from a distance, which also helped reduced the danger of being spotted by Robert. Hope suddenly had a crazy idea. Pulling off to the side of the road she quickly took a scarf from the saddlebag, and wrapped it around her hair. This would help hide the fact that a woman was riding the Harley. It was also very dark by now, so it would also be difficult for Robert to identify anyone. Robert’s truck was quickly caught up to and passed. Hope avoided making eye contact with anyone in the vehicle when passing. Then for the next several miles stayed just ahead of it, and eventually slowing down until finally the panel truck passed her. This time, as it went by, she was able to steal a glance at the men sitting in the cab of the truck and was able to see a third person behind the front seats.
“That’s got to be Beth,” Hope assured herself.
The new plan was to fall in close behind the truck without the danger of being recognized and follow wherever it went. . After awhile Robert slowed for a turn and pulled into a large parking lot of an office building. She watched as one of the men got out and entered the well-lit building, assuming the one man left behind to guard Beth was Robert.
Parking the Harley a short distance from the truck, Hope was able to carefully crawl within about ten feet of where Robert sat in the cab, because bushes growing around the parking lot offer lots of protection. With a pocketknife, she cut a long branch from one of the bushes, and then crept close enough to tap on the side of the truck with it. At first there was no response, and Hope wasn’t sure the plan would work, so she tapped the side of the truck again, only a little harder. This second attempt brought Robert out of the truck and caused him to look around. A young girl’s voice asked.
“What was it, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing, nothing’s the matter. Just never mind.” Robert answered gruffly.
A man’s voice suddenly came from the opposite side of the truck At the same moment Robert was acknowledging the other man’s voice and explained that it was really nothing, yet he expressed his desire to leave immediately.
Hearing the truck door slam shut and the engine being started caused Hope to run back to Harley as fast as possible and was soon following the men again through the city streets of New Orleans. At a large intersection the truck turned west and passed a sign that read six hundred and fifty miles to Laredo, Texas.
Hope said to the Harley, “No problem baby, we can follow them as far as we need to, all the way to Brazil, if need be.”
A few miles further a new enemy appeared. Fog began swirling around the headlights of approaching cars, and the further she rode, the thicker it became until the taillights of Robert’s truck disappeared. A sinking feeling of desperation now became the ruling thought in her mind.
“I was so close to Beth, and now she has been taken from me once again. What have I done to deserve this?” she cried, desperately trying to peer through the fog in hopes of seeing the panel truck once more.
Hour after hour Hope struggled to find a way through the dangerous road conditions. From time to time, it was possible to make out the road signs in the fog, which at least reassured her it was still the right highway.
The lights from businesses on both sides of the highway and those of approaching cars became nothing more than yellow globs in the thick fog as the night wore on. Suddenly, in front of her, appearing out of the fog, was a set of red taillights belonging to a semi-trailer truck that was traveling at a slow rate of speed. Since the fog was too thick to allow for safe passing, Hope had no choice but to follow the taillights. The two traveled this way for some time, and because of the weather conditions, Hope began to feel the effects of the cold and dampness. She even considered stopping for a while when the truck began signaling for a turn and so followed it. The low glow of several neon lights from the sign of an all night café greeted the truck and motorcycle. Hope silently thanked the truck driver for turning in and stopping and quickly found an empty parking spot beside the café, which allowed the Harley to be out of sight. She had no idea if Robert would have stopped here as well and so scrutinized the parking lot in the fog, but fortunately, there was no sign of the black panel truck. A brightly lit sign cut through the fog that read, “Coffee Cup Restaurant”. She took her time before venturing inside, just to be sure everything was all right.
Because of the fog, the café was busy. It was apparent everyone shared the same idea about getting out of it for a while. Stepping inside the brightly lit restaurant, Hope was met with the sounds of customers moving about and the low chatter of people talking over meals and coffee. The restaurant smelled with the aroma of fried hamburger, strong coffee and too much cigarette smoke. When compared to the cold, wet fog, it was a very pleasant atmosphere, and stretching her legs at last added to the pleasantry of the all night diner.
Patrons sitting at the long counter turned and momentarily stared at the motorcycle rider, wondering what type of woman would be out riding on a night such as this. Walking towards the table and chair section, she heard a Tommy Dorsey tune being played over a large, wooden radio. Hope liked the big band sound and ignored the once over given her by customers, making her way to a window seat where a watchful eye could be kept on the motorcycle. A couple of minutes passed before a friendly, middle-aged waitress approached her.
“Hi hon, what you gonna have tonight?”
“Are you still serving dinner?”
“We sure are. Got a great baked ham special.”
“I’ll have that and a cup of coffee now, please.”
Spotting the large restaurant clock, decorated with blue and red neon lights and the words that spelled Pepsi, she saw that it was just eleven minutes past midnight. The food arrived before Hope had finished her second cup of coffee, so it became a leisurely dinner, all the while wondering what was happening to Robert and Beth. Later, she sipped a third cup and thought of ways to kill time until daybreak. The fog showed no sign of lifting, and Hope had no desire to go back out in it, even though the spirit of anxiousness urged her to begin the search for Robert once more.
The appearance of a short, stocky man interrupted her thoughts at that moment. “Hello young lady, aren’t you the motorcycle rider who followed me into this place?” As he spoke he sat down, causing her concern.
“Oh boy, am I in for it now or what?” She thought, giving the intruder a stern look.
The man stuck out his hand and gave her a disarming smile. “Bud Rankin’s the name. I drive the semi you followed in. You picked a pretty tough time for a night ride. Do this often?”
Because of his smile and tone of voice, Hope began to relax a little and decided to let him stay a while, feeling the conversation might do some good.
“So where’s a young motorcyclist like you heading for on a night like this?” he asked as he played with a saltshaker.
“Would you believe I am trying to find someone?”
“They must be one important person to have a girl go to the extent you are. You must really think a lot of this person to be out on a night like this, and on a motorcycle to boot?"
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” Hope lied to guard the truth “They are worth whatever it will take to find them.” She attempted to close any opening the stranger might take advantage of.
“How much will that be?”
They paused in their conversation as the waitress returned and filled her coffee cup, then turned and spoke to Bud. “Bud, you gonna have another cup of coffee?”
“Sure Babe, bring me one more before I go.”
Before leaving the waitress spoke to Hope, asking, “You ok Honey?”
“Oh sure, thanks for asking.”
“They’ll watch out for you here,” Bud answered, referring to the waitress’s question.
“Well, to answer your question Bud, all the way into Mexico if I have to. I plan on turning south to Laredo and cross the border there.”
Bud let out a low whistle. “You are serious, aren’t you? That route will work for you though. Take highway eighty-one south at San Antoine. It’ll take you right downtown Laredo. Any chance of my finding out why you are going to all the trouble?”
“No, no chance, but thanks for the concern.”
Hope and Bud drank several more cups of coffee and shared conversation for the next hour until Bud prepared to leave.
" Well, when you get there, if you need any help, stop at a tavern called Thomas and Charlie’s. Tell them Bud Rankin sent you and to give you what help you need. Anyhow, I’ve gotta catch some shuteye in the cab of my truck before I hit the road again. I didn’t git your last name, did I?”
“It’s Hope, Hope Hinds. Nice meeting you Bud, and thanks for the offer.”
“No problem. Maybe see you around sometime again kid.” Bud said as he shook her hand.
Hope watched Bud walk to his truck through the window she sat next to and was interrupted by the waitress once more.
“Hi, my name is Maggie and I’m on my break. Ok if I sit down for a few minutes? If you don’t mind my saying so, you look a little lost tonight. Didn’t you ride in on that big motorcycle?”
“Yeah, that’s my Harley. The best friend I have.” And then for some reason Hope felt safe to tell the whole story of her adventure up to that point.
“You are one brave girl, and your niece has got herself a brave aunt.. I wished I had the nerve to do what you are doing.”
Hope liked the woman that sat across the table from her and so felt right about asking her, “are you serious about what you just said?”
“What? About being able to ride across the country on a motorcycle? Sure, I couldn’t be more serious about that. But hey, what chance would I ever have of doing something like that? I’m a middle aged woman who’s only career is a waitress in an all night café.”
“Your chances are better than you realize. How would you like to join me?”
“You mean all the way to Brazil, if necessary?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Well, I don’t know, I’ve never given any serious thought about actually doing something like that It just seems very adventurous and all. Sure, I guess I’d like to do something like that, but then why not? The only thing I have holding me in this place is my job. I mean I don’t have any family or anything like that to keep me here.”
“There’s plenty of room on the back of that big Harley seat,” Hope encouraged her. “We could have a great time and plenty of adventure.”
“What would I do about packing and getting ready, Hope?”
“Throw several changes of clothes and some personal articles in a bag, and as much cash as you can lay your hands on tonight, and we are ready to go.”
“Hope, I’ll do it. But say, you can’t ride in this fog, so why not take some time and get some rest. This stuff will burn off as soon as the sun is up.”
“I sure could use some rest, but I don’t think I can put up my little pup tent anywhere around here.”
“Don’t need to. There’s a place in the back storeroom where you can sack out for awhile. I’ll tell the boss and it’ll be ok. No one will bother you--he’ll see to that.”
“That would be just wonderful. I am a pretty tired, and yet I don’t want to waste any extra time in catching up with Robert.”
“ I can understand that, kidnapping of a young girl is about as serious a crime as one can commit. Do you think you’ll have much of a chance once you find them? Look, I get off work in an hour. I’ll pick up what I need and then come back and wake you up at six in the morning.”
“Thank you so very much. You are very kind.” Hope replied, standing and following Maggie to the rear of the café.
From somewhere Maggie produced a blanket and Hope laid down, using a sack of potatoes as a pillow. In a few minutes she was sound asleep.
The next thing Hope felt was someone shaking her shoulder. “Hope honey, it’s six o’clock.”
Hope sat up with a start and took a minute to rub the sleep from her eyes. “Oh yeah. Boy, for a minute I couldn’t remember where I was.”
“How about a cup of coffee? The lady’s room is just over there. You can wash up and then meet me at the counter for a cup.”
“Sure,” Hope answered groggily, and stumbled towards the women’s washroom.
Minutes later she joined Maggie at the counter and sipped her first cup of coffee for the day. The coffee was hot and good, and helped wash away the remaining effects of sleep. “What’s the weather like out this morning?” She asked Maggie while waiting for her breakfast to be served.
“Just like I said. That ole sun is up and chased away that fog. Gonna be a good day, I’m sure of that.”
“That good to hear,” Hope said. As she stood up she put a five-dollar bill next to the empty coffee cup.
Maggie looked at the five and told her she didn’t have to do that.
“I know, but I want to, you are such good folks here. Hope and Maggie left the café together and walked into the morning sun to find her Harley. It was just where she had parked it the night before. The parking lot was busy with many other drivers doing the same thing as the two women…leaving. Hope had to set the choke and kick the engine a number of times before it caught and sputtered to life. While the two women sat on the big Harley waiting for it to warm up Hope asked Maggie how she had explained her leaving her job at the café’.
“They’ll find out when I don’t show up for work tonight. Say Hope, do I look ok in these overalls? These are the only type of pants I could find cause they belonged to a boyfriend of mine. I packed several pair,”
“I don’t see a problem, you fill them out pretty well.”
The big motorcycle and the women’s conversation caught the attention of four young men in a black, 1928 Buick. They pulled along side of Hope and Maggie and yelled.
“Hey ladies, where you going on that motorcycle? If you want to ride something, get in the car with us, and we’ll let you ride something.” One of the young men shouted. “Yeah, ladies, you could get hurt with that thing. We’ll give you some protection.” His friend chimed in.
“Why don’t you boys go home and find your mommies. It sounds like you’re missing something.” Hope responded to the catcalls.
“Don’t mess with us bitch, we play rough, if that’s what you want.”
“Shove it, little boys” Maggie returned as Hope automatically shifted the idling Harley into first and popped the clutch. The rear wheel fish tailed as the two women flew out of the parking lot, throwing dust and gravel in the direction of the black Buick.
“Get them, don’t let those bitches get away,” the men shouted as they leaned out of the windows, shaking their fists in the direction of Hope. The driver of the black Buick floored the engine also, and the spinning rear tires added to the flying dust and gravel.
The commotion, created from the shouting and the roar of the motorcycle, caught everyone’s attention in the parking lot, including Bud Rankin’s, as he sat in the cab of his tractor-trailer rig, preparing to pull out on to the highway. Bud saw what was happening to his two friends and immediately decided to do something about it.
“Bastards! You punks are gonna get a taste of your own medicine,” he murmured to himself as he piloted the big rig on to the two-lane concrete highway and began shifting through the thirty-three forward gears in his three year old Mack truck.
Hope felt the increased beat of her heart as she leaned forward and down on the gas tank in order to gain as much speed as possible from the Harley. As she twisted the throttle and worked through the gearbox she patted Maggie on her knee to signal her to crouch down and forward as well. Finally, reaching fourth gear, she spoke to the Harley “Come on baby, don’t fail us now,” she coaxed the Harley as it roared on the way to it’s top speed.
Hope knew the young men in the black Buick were not playing games and they meant to do the two women harm, provided they could catch them. Her only defense was to out run the Buick until she could find help. Looking to the side and behind her, she could see the Buick was still some distance from them, but she couldn’t be sure if they were gaining. Or were they? But then she saw a large object behind the Buick. Were there more people chasing them?
Bud felt he had the advantage over the men in the Buick because they hadn’t realized he had joined the pursuit. True, his rig was a couple of years old, but she could pull ninety-five in top gear even with a loaded trailer. It would just take a little longer to get there. Shifting through the two gearboxes and the split rear end, caused black smoke to fill the air as it poured from the large stack that protruded above the cab of his truck. Soon the gray, foreboding diesel truck was like a large locomotive, bearing down on the four men and their Buick.
The driver of the Buick commented to his three friends about the speed of the Harley. “I don’t know if we are gonna be able to catch them. They say those Harleys are fast, and it looks like that gal can ride. Maybe we will just follow them for a while to scare the hell out’em.”
At that moment the inside of the Buick suddenly began to turn dark and men turned in time to see a chrome bulldog trying to drive through their rear window.
“That truck driver is crazy. What is he trying to do?” one of the men screamed as the front bumper of the truck contacted the rear of the Buick. “Come on, floor this thing and let’s get outta here,” another passenger yelled.
“Hey, I’ve got the Buick floored. It’s doing seventy now.”
“Hang on,” someone else shouted as the large nose of the truck slammed into the Buick once more, this time sending the carload of men into a sideway skid, causing it to land in the roadside ditch. The Buick ended up leaning severely to one side, as if it were on the verge of tipping over. The four men scrambled from the car and shouted as the tractor-trailer rig flew by. Bud hit the air horns in response and flipped them off.
“Next time you punks will think twice about picking on women,” he spoke to his mirror.
Hope had caught glimpses of what had happened in her side mirror and knew it must have been Bud. She quickly brought the Harley to a stop alongside the road, waiting for him to do the same. When he did, she pulled the Haley along side the driver’s door.
“That was some mighty fine truck driving, Bud. I owe you one.”
“Nope, you just take care of yourself and that lady with you. How did you ever convince Maggie to join you?”
“I kept telling you I was going to quit that place Bud.” Maggie answered.
“Yeah, but I never expected it to happen so soon.” Bud grinned.
“You two know each other then?” Hope interrupted.
. “Sure, Maggie and I go back away. Tell you what I’m gonna do girls. As soon as I get to a telephone, I’ll call the highway patrol and turn in a report on those punks. You should be well clear of the area by then. No need to wait around. When you get to Laredo, make sure you stop in at Thomas and Charlie’s Bar and tell Charlie to give you my mid-night special. He’ll know what you mean. Ok, you ladies ride safe but ride free.”
“Goodbye Bud, and thanks again.” both women spoke in unison.
They sat astride the motorcycle watching in silence as the big truck slowly disappeared from sight. Then Hope turned to Maggie asking. ”You alright?”
“Oh sure, just a little shaken. I didn’t expect the excitement to come so soon.”
Edited by jetski, 21 July 2008 - 01:17 AM.
Top
