by Chucky
While riding my Harley down a wide , palm-lined street in Southern California I was passed like I was a telephone pole by a speeding crotch rocket. As he disappeared into the horizon I noticed his helmet , which was on the luggage carrier, flying off and bouncing down the road. I caught up with it at about the time it rolled to a stop. I slowed and parked the bike on the shoulder of the road and walked out to retrieve it. Just as I reached down to pick it up the helmet again took off down the road. As if it had so much kinetic energy that was not expended even though it had come to a standstill in the middle of that highway. The thought crossed my mind that that was ridiculous and a blatant violation of the laws of physics as I took off running after it. My belief in Gods laws were next challenged when to my amazement the helmet made a sharp right turn and continued on in a zig zag pattern, almost winding up moving in the opposite direction from its initial path. I halted my pursuit to watch and see where it was going next as it slowed to a halt. As I once again approached it the motorcyclist on the crotch rocket rolled up and parked his bike. As he was putting his kickstand down I walked over to the helmet and reached down to pick it up whereupon it took off again, making a beeline for the fellow on the rocket, who was now standing beside his bike, watching me with a very familiar grin on his face. Very familiar indeed. He was slim and tall with sharp features and long wavy blond hair. It can't be him, I thought as I approached him, following the helmet, which came to yet another stop at his feet. He bent down and picked up the helmet and was reaching inside just as I arrived.He pulled out a small, curly haired little dog, apparently unharmed and very excitedly licking his hand, as if to thank him for providing the harrowing ride he had just been on in the spinning and bouncing helmet doing 100 miles an hour down the pavement. "Thanks for stopping". He said, looking at me with that all too familiar grin. I resisted the urge to reply with "That's ok Richard, It wasn't any trouble" and instead just stood there looking at him for a moment with what must have been a very quizzical look. He was much too young to be him. I was watching his movies when I was a teenager and at my ripe age of 67 I knew he was either very well preserved or …
"Are you Richard Widmark's kid?" It blurted out before I could stop the words from rolling off my tongue. "Yes, I am" He hesitated and said "..but I try not to advertise it."
"You don't have to. You are his spitting image. You know they make a special cage for animals so they can be transported safely on a motorcycle", I lectured.
As he petted his apparently appreciative little dog he replied "Oh, he wouldn't like that. He likes riding in the helmet with his head sticking out in the wind just like me. I guess we are both chips off the old block. He has gotten used to flying off the back. This isn't the first time. I think he looks forward to it." We spoke for a while longer about nothing in particular before shaking hands and climbing back on our bikes. As I put the Harley in gear and rolled away I reminded myself why I left California and moved to Texas in the first place. "Its just too crazy out there."
While riding my Harley down a wide , palm-lined street in Southern California I was passed like I was a telephone pole by a speeding crotch rocket. As he disappeared into the horizon I noticed his helmet , which was on the luggage carrier, flying off and bouncing down the road. I caught up with it at about the time it rolled to a stop. I slowed and parked the bike on the shoulder of the road and walked out to retrieve it. Just as I reached down to pick it up the helmet again took off down the road. As if it had so much kinetic energy that was not expended even though it had come to a standstill in the middle of that highway. The thought crossed my mind that that was ridiculous and a blatant violation of the laws of physics as I took off running after it. My belief in Gods laws were next challenged when to my amazement the helmet made a sharp right turn and continued on in a zig zag pattern, almost winding up moving in the opposite direction from its initial path. I halted my pursuit to watch and see where it was going next as it slowed to a halt. As I once again approached it the motorcyclist on the crotch rocket rolled up and parked his bike. As he was putting his kickstand down I walked over to the helmet and reached down to pick it up whereupon it took off again, making a beeline for the fellow on the rocket, who was now standing beside his bike, watching me with a very familiar grin on his face. Very familiar indeed. He was slim and tall with sharp features and long wavy blond hair. It can't be him, I thought as I approached him, following the helmet, which came to yet another stop at his feet. He bent down and picked up the helmet and was reaching inside just as I arrived.He pulled out a small, curly haired little dog, apparently unharmed and very excitedly licking his hand, as if to thank him for providing the harrowing ride he had just been on in the spinning and bouncing helmet doing 100 miles an hour down the pavement. "Thanks for stopping". He said, looking at me with that all too familiar grin. I resisted the urge to reply with "That's ok Richard, It wasn't any trouble" and instead just stood there looking at him for a moment with what must have been a very quizzical look. He was much too young to be him. I was watching his movies when I was a teenager and at my ripe age of 67 I knew he was either very well preserved or …
"Are you Richard Widmark's kid?" It blurted out before I could stop the words from rolling off my tongue. "Yes, I am" He hesitated and said "..but I try not to advertise it."
"You don't have to. You are his spitting image. You know they make a special cage for animals so they can be transported safely on a motorcycle", I lectured.
As he petted his apparently appreciative little dog he replied "Oh, he wouldn't like that. He likes riding in the helmet with his head sticking out in the wind just like me. I guess we are both chips off the old block. He has gotten used to flying off the back. This isn't the first time. I think he looks forward to it." We spoke for a while longer about nothing in particular before shaking hands and climbing back on our bikes. As I put the Harley in gear and rolled away I reminded myself why I left California and moved to Texas in the first place. "Its just too crazy out there."
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