The next day, Kim is standing outside a bus station, but he does not go in yet. Instead, he walks across the street to a Coca-Cola machine. He buys a coke and sits on a bench that is nearby. He takes his money from his pocket and begins to count it. He has twenty dollars left. He is debating whether to take a bus or hitch-hike the rest of the way to California.
Then he begins to feel that someone is watching him. He slowly turns around and sees a young, man standing in front of a motorcycle. He looks like he has not shaved in a couple of weeks. He has a ruddy complexion and hazel eyes. He’s wearing a dirty pair of jeans and a sleeveless, blue denim vest. He is not wearing a shirt under his vest, and his big, muscular arms are in full view. On his left arm is a large tattoo that runs from his shoulder to his elbow that reads U.S. Army-W.W.2.
The man grins at Kim, and then he says, “You got money troubles, Sonny?”
Kim responds, “No, I’ll get by. I have almost enough money to get to San Francisco, but I might have to hitch-hike some of the way.”
The stranger laughs at him, as he says, “You’ll be hitching about 1,500 miles. That is not some of the way. It’s a lot of the way.”
He then introduces himself. “My name is Biker Mike. I am from Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. I worked at Bethlehem Steel until the War broke out. Then I enlisted in the United States Army. When the war ended, I went back home. I’m now headed to Sacramento, California. That’s my story. What about you? What’s your story?”
Kim knows he must avoid giving any incriminating evidence about himself. So, he lies. He says, “My name is Kim. I was staying with my step-father and my mother in Rhode Island, but things didn’t work out. Now I’m going back to live with my auntie in San Francisco.” Kim hopes he bought his story.
Biker Mike tells him that he could use a little cash to help pay for gas. Kim slowly backs away from him because he thinks this guy is going rob him. Biker Mike sees that Kim is leery of him. So, he says, “I’d like some company on the road.”
Kim questions him. “You want me to sit on the back of your bike for 1,500 miles?” He pauses for a moment and then says, “That would be so cool!”
Biker Mike gets on his motorcycle and tells Kim, “We have a few hours to ride until it gets dark. Then we will stop to get gas, something to eat and a cheap motel room.” Kim doesn’t say a word. He just hops on the bike.
They sit there for a minute or two. Then Kim questions him. “Is there something wrong? What is going on? Why aren’t we moving?”
Biker Mike snickers at Kim’s remark, and then he says, “We can’t go anywhere until you put your arms around me.” Kim lies as he says, “Oh! I, uh, knew that.” He then puts his arms around him. Once he does, Biker Mike says, “Hold me tighter. Don’t let go of me, no matter what happens.”
After thirty minutes of riding, Kim feels free. He forgets about everything he has endured. He’s experiencing an inner peace as he stays in the moment. He thought the long car ride with Johnny and Jimmy was great, but this ride is the most incredible experience he has ever had. He is not a passenger riding in a car looking out the window. He’s on a bike and feels like he is part of the road.
They have left Nebraska behind them and are entering the state of Wyoming. Its terrain is different than Nebraska’s landscape. There are lots of high, rugged mountains, some are as tall as 13, 000 feet.
After riding about forty-five minutes, Biker Mike says, “We’ll stop to get food and a motel room as soon as I get to the next town.
Kim says, “Why? It’s not dark yet.”
Biker Mike answers, “It’s not about the time, but the winds.”
Kim likes the wind blowing on his face. He is experiencing a wonderful rush as they ride through the mountains. Within a few minutes, the winds are becoming stronger. They are blowing about 45 miles an hour and are picking up mounds of tumbleweeds in their path.
The fierce winds and the tumble weeds are hammering them. Then an abundance of rain starts coming down hard. It is impossible to see two feet in front of them. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide and nowhere to stop. Biker Mike must make it through this wicked storm. He must maneuver his bike to stay on the road, and he does.
Kim shouts out, “You did it! You did it! We got through it!
Then they continue riding through the downpour of the heavy showers of rain. It is nothing compared to what they just experienced.
They ride for another thirty minutes and find a small town with a motel. Once inside their motel room, they begin talking about their adventure. Kim is so excited as he rapidly says, “Wow! That was the best! Boy, can you drive that cycle. A few times, I thought we were toast. But you stayed calm. You kept on driving through that blizzard. Nothing happened to us or your bike. Wow!”
Kim pauses for a moment and then asks, “How did you learn to drive like that?”
Biker Mike opens a beer and tells Kim his story. “During the war, like others in the army, I rode a Harley Davidson. We were the messengers and scouts. I would drive miles ahead of an advancing unit to deliver a message from another unit. The delivery of these messages helped close the distances between the units.”
Biker Mike pauses for a minute to take a big gulp of his beer. Once he satisfies his thirst, he continues talking. “Kim, motorcycles are essential on the battle fields. They are fast and have loads of agility. But it was dangerous to ride one as a messenger. We would have been toast if we didn’t have good judgement and driving skills. We had no protection as the soldiers in the armored tanks did. There were many times we had to ride our bikes through heavy gun fire.”
Biker Mike stops talking to grab a piece of fried chicken and another beer.
Kim says, “You are a bad ass. You didn’t ride a bike just for fun! You are a real pro.”
Biker Mike shyly responds, “Awe, thanks. I respect my mean machine, but it is also my pleasure machine. If I love her and take care of her then she will always take care of me. I do not want to do anything else with my life but fix and ride bikes.”
He gulps down the rest of his beer and then dozes off to sleep. He is snoring very loudly, but Kim doesn’t mind. He can snore as loud as he wants. It is music to his ears.
The next morning, Kim wakes up to the bright sun light. He looks around the room and does not see Biker Mike. When he walks outside, he sees him cleaning his bike.
Kim shouts, “Do you need any help?” Biker Mike hollers back, “No, I’m done. We need to gas up and then go for breakfast.”
After breakfast, they get back on the road and continue to ride through Wyoming. Biker Mike lets Kim do some of the driving. After they stop, Kim tells him that he had a blast when he was a passenger on it, but when he drove the mean machine, it was incredible.
Biker Mike tells him, “You were born to ride.” Kim is genuinely humbled. It has been a long time since he received a compliment. Now, he has received one from this remarkable, man.
Within four days, they rode through Wyoming and Utah. They are now at the border of Nevada and California. Biker Mike drives for a few miles and finds a large, quiet spot. He tells Kim that he’ll show him two biker tricks. He does a sit-down and then a stand-up wheelie. Then for fun, he does the nac-nac, which is like a stand-up wheelie except the driver places his right leg behind his left leg while he is sticking it out.
When Biker Mike finishes, he gets off his bike and asks Kim if he wants to learn the tricks. Kim jumps on the bike, as he says, “Yes!” Biker Mike proceeds to give Kim instructions and Kim does both kinds of wheelies on the third try.
An hour later, Biker Mike gets back on his motorcycle. They both are elated as they take-off and start riding like the wind. Then it is time for them to stop at a small town to hunker down for the night. They find a motel and check-in, and then they go out for dinner at a nearby diner. Several customers walk in together. When they walk past Biker Mike and Kim’s table they are talking about the hum-dinger of a chopper parked in front of the diner.
Kim and Biker Mike overhear them, and. Kim asks, “Why did those people call your bike a chopper?” He tells Kim, “A lot of us veterans learned to ride Harleys when we served in the war. When we got home, we still wanted to ride. Many of us bought their cheap military surplus. The military’s Harley Davison had weird looking racks, bags, and windshields. None of that stuff was needed anymore. So, we chopped it off our bikes and that’s why the bikes are called choppers.”
They leave the restaurant and ride to their motel room. Once inside the room, they both feel a powerful sense of sadness because tonight, is their last night together. Tomorrow they will be in Sacramento, and it will be time to say good-bye.
Biker Mike tells Kim. “You know, you are good on the bike. You shouldn’t give it up. If, you want to keep on riding and be part of a group then San Francisco, Los Angeles or anywhere else in California is a good place to do it.”
Kim asks, “Is that why you are going to Sacramento?”
Biker Mike responds, “I’m going to Sacramento for a job. The Harley Davison of Sacramento business is there. It has been an authorized dealership since 1919. My buddy, Joel, works there as a manager, and he told the owner about me. After he talked to the owner, he told me that I’ve got a good chance of getting a job with them.”
He pauses for a moment and then says, “If, the job doesn’t work out, I’ll go to another part of the state and try to get a job with Harley. There are also new clubs starting up in California around Los Angeles. I can join one of the clubs. Some are good and belong to the AMA (American Motorcyclist Association) and some are not like the ‘Booze Fighters’. That group is known as the ‘Wild Ones’ because of the riot they started in San Benito Valley. There is also a group called the Hells Angels, who are starting up. Don’t know yet, if they’ll be part of AMA or not.”
Biker Mike pauses and yawns and then says, “Kim, it’s time to hit the sack.” Kim turns off the lights, and they both drift off to sleep.
They get up early the next morning. They only have an hour left on their journey. They arrive in front of the Harley Davison of Sacramento at 9:00 in the morning. Biker Mike pulls over and parks across the street from the store. He gets off his bike and gazes at the place like it is a big, chocolate ice-cream sundae.
They say good-bye and Kim starts to walk away. Then Biker Mike calls him back to give him a hug and Kim hugs him back. Biker Mike tells Kim to take care of himself. Kim knows that he must walk away again, and this time it will be the last time.
Kim begins to walk away. Then a few minutes later, he turns around to wave good-bye to him.
But it’s too late, Biker Mike has already faded into the distance.
Kim will miss his friend.