Grampa’s stories #18


I had to learn to hitchhike when I was a kid out of necessity, since we didn’t have a phone in the early days. I became pretty proficient actually, but one day I was not getting too many takers and the afternoon had turned into evening. So when a group of Harley-Davidson riders sauntered by, I raised my hitch-hiking hand not really thinking they would stop. To my surprise they did. And following instructions, I hopped on the seat behind a burley, white-haired dude. When I climbed on the bike I was thinking what I should do with my hands. There wasn’t anything obvious to hold onto, but I had barely swung my leg over the seat and sat down when he gunned it. Without thinking, I grabbed around his waist and held on for dear life. He took off so quickly for the first 30 seconds, I couldn’t even breathe. Eventually I loosened my death grip and moved my hands to a more appropriate position on the bike. As I remember, the seat back curled up behind me so that he didn’t lose me altogether when he accelerated. Thinking back to the experience, I bet he was smiling broadly. Anyway, it was a great ride and the fastest I ever got home before or since. I can’t remember for sure, but when he got to the valley, I think he offered to drive me to my door, and I would have said “yes” if we really had one at the time. But considering his offer now, I wish I had taken him up on it. Can you imagine the scene I would have made driving down our country road with a pack of Harley-Davidson bikes and riders in their black, leather garb? I would have given a million bucks to see my mother’s face when I climbed off the bike as a 13-year-old young man. “Yo, Rico. Thanks for the ride home. You HOGs are the best. Catch you later, bro.” 

People would still be talking about that day.

https://stuckicrew.wordpress.com/2013/09/29/once-in-a-lifetime/#:~:text=Then%20one%20day,about%20that%20day.

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