Love Letters From the Grave(30)
‘Your outfit matches George’s!’ giggled Aunt Dolores.
‘Not quite,’ said George, appearing in the hallway. ‘Mine’s not nearly as fetching.’
Before leaving, George helped her adjust her helmet and showed her how to wear her goggles. He showed her how to best hang on and where to place her feet for maximum safety and comfort. Before she knew it, they were out on the road and roaring away from her house.
It didn’t take long to become less anxious and even reasonably comfortable riding behind George. Of course, there was no chance of conversation between them because of the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind. As she relaxed she began to pay attention to the scenic vistas rushing by as they roared down the road. It was amazing to her how much more beautiful and clear the landscapes looked from the open-air viewpoint of the motorcycle as compared to riding in an automobile. She also began to become aware of how smooth the motorcycle rode and how well and solid it performed along the surface of the road.
The road passed by one small farm after another. It was a very pleasant and enjoyable scene of pretty farm houses, surrounded by neat, well-maintained barns and other out-buildings, all set within bucolic fields of grazing animals and colorful brown to black tilled fields; some containing crops in various stages of growth. Every ten to fifteen minutes, George would slow down as they proceeded through pretty little villages and towns. She was conscious of nearly everyone, walking along the sidewalks in the downtown areas of these neat little communities, gawking at them as they went by.
It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day, and although the wind blowing by them was chilly, it was invigorating. Dressed in her leather motorcycle outfit, she was comfortably warm. As they were pulling out of the fifth or sixth little town on their route, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a thrill, a feeling of joy. She hadn't felt this good in years, if ever.
Molly was basking in the glow of her euphoria, when suddenly she became aware of a din of engine and crowd noises, which they were rapidly approaching on their right front. She soon saw the source of the noise as George slowed down to turn into the grounds surrounding the racetrack. The grounds were a sea of people, most of them dressed as she and George were, surging around more motorcycles than she had ever seen in her lifetime, interspersed among the many pickup trucks and automobiles.
As George pulled into an area of parked motorcycles, he was greeted by the many men and women standing around their "bikes." It was obvious to Molly that he was well-known. He parked his bike and, as soon as the two of them dismounted, they were surrounded by a large crowd of people, all of them curious about who George had brought with him to the races. George introduced her to the crowd, and they responded with a warm, enthusiastic welcome.
After chatting for a few minutes, the crowd began to move, en masse, toward the spectator bleachers. As soon as they reached the edge of the stands, the crowd began to separate as individuals and small groups began to go to their seats. George escorted her to two seats located midway up and in the center of the stands. They had excellent seats from which to observe the races.
As soon as they were seated, George handed her a program and began to give her details - amidst the roar of motorcycles and the chattering din of the crowd - about the different races and about many of the individuals in each of them. He seemed to know many of the racers personally, and was quite knowledgeable about their abilities and prospects. If betting were allowed, George would easily win a lot of money.
During the races, Molly didn’t join in the cheering and booing emanating from the crowd and from George, but rather sat back and casually took it all in. She enjoyed herself, even though she was not particularly excited by the races themselves. The overall atmosphere, and the obvious enthusiasm and enjoyment shown by George, was enough for her.
After the races, they slowly walked back to where George had parked his motorcycle, gradually being joined by others whose bikes were parked in the same area, who seemed to talk as one about the details and outcomes of the races.
‘I see she’s new, George,’ cried a man in flamboyant navy leathers. ‘Congratulations! She’s a fine one.’
George looked puzzled. ‘Not that new. I’ve had her months, Edgar. You’ve seen her before.’
Edgar grinned toward Molly. ‘I wasn’t talking about the bike.’
‘Ah, you mean my new girlfriend. Yes, this is Molly.’
He showed her off with evident pride, and Molly grinned delightedly as George started up his bike. It was official! She situated herself behind him and adjusted her helmet and goggles, and they slowly made their way toward the gate, waving goodbye to everyone before they roared out onto the road toward her home.
The trip home was even more pleasurable then the trip to the track earlier. The day was still sunny and balmy, with a crystal-clear blue sky, and Molly was very content as they roared along the road. The pastoral landscape of agricultural fields, grazing animals, and neat farmsteads seemed even more beautiful than before. George's beautiful motorcycle, and their matching shiny black outfits, made her feel special. She was feeling quite content indeed, by the time they reached her home.
Both Jesse and Aunt Dolores, alerted by the roar of the motorcycle as they turned into their driveway, were outside to greet them as they parked and dismounted. During supper, Jesse and, especially Aunt Dolores, peppered George with questions which he answered amiably. Jesse was particularly interested in George's motorcycle and his many years of experience with motorcycles and racing. The food was delicious, and George appeared to gorge himself, asking for seconds, or even thirds, of nearly everything. They were absolutely sated when they retired to the living room to sit a spell. Molly could not remember ever eating so much. Moreover, she could not remember a time when she had such a thoroughly enjoyable day.