The house in Miramar was perfect for us.
The backyard had an orange and a grapefruit tree.
of iron I brought in the U-Haul.
The jobs in Hialeah paid the bills but not much more.
We drank heavily and smoked tons of weed we bought from the hottie at the Fotomat.
We hung around, smoked weed, and drank blackberry brandy.
Neither one of us had saddlebags, and we didn’t want ‘em.
It wasn’t the right look for us.
I’d read about the bike inHot Rod Magazine.
It was a two-stroke, three-cylinder, what they referred to back then as arice burner.
And it was fast.
He had short, light brown hair and distant eyes, and he didn’t smile.
He looked ex-military to me.
I was taking a hit off a joint when he looked over and motioned to be included.
I didn’t have a problem sharing, so I handed him the joint.
He took a long haul, really lit up the end, held it in, and exhaled.
Then he kinda pissed me and Moose off when he took a second hit before handing it back.
Who the fuck does that?
He took a big fucking gulp, which got Moose’s attention.
He gave me a look and a nod that said,“Shut this fucking mooch off!”
After swallowing, he hung out his hand and said,“Hi.
My name’s Tom…”
I shook his hand and said,“I’m Vinnie.”
Moose and I both experimented with speed, and we liked it.
So we took a pill each…
From there, we just continued getting more fucked up.
The conversation focused on who had the fastest bike of the three of us.
Moose was cocky, and he truly believed his 750 Norton was faster than Tom’s 500 Kawasaki.
But Moose wouldn’t listen…
When the traffic subsided a bit, we set up on the strip, and I was the starter.
I couldn’t believe Moose was so confident.
Even from where I was standing, I could see it wasn’t even close.
If he had missed a shift, I would have heard it.
We set up again, and this time Tom kicked Moose’s ass even more.
Tom said he had a long ride, and we told him he could crash on our couch.
We put the three bikes in the garage, and we all went to sleep.
That was sometime after 2:30 a.m.
When Moose and I got up in the morning, Tom was already gone.
We never heard him leave.
He didn’t steal anythinghe just up and left.
He was certainly a fucked-up guy, but he was in his element with us.
We all seemed to defy authority and logic and hadn’t made the best choices along the way.
Tom and I might’ve had a bit more in common.
We both had adeath wish… Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…
