Beach Walker: Chapter 12
Superior by Far
I read Leonard’s text.
Come outside. Gotta surprise for ya.
I sighed. Leonard and his surprises. I straightened my clothes, slipped sandals on my feet and opened the front door.
Nobody. Nothing. Just the quiet, empty street, drowsing in the afternoon sun. What the hell, Leonard?
The roar of a powerful engine, and a notably long and large motorcycle rounded the corner, its rider in an upright, straight-backed position. Leonard, of course, wearing an ancient leather jacket and black, open-face helmet. He drew his metal steed up at the kerb, engine idling.
The bike looked distinctly odd — and old. It had a boxy frame, no curvy cowling or fairing. Below a very wide, chrome tank, intricate machinery was on full display. A big V-twin.
The boys all had dirt bikes, so I’m not unfamiliar with two-wheeled vehicles, in principle. I was even known to make a sedate circuit of the town on one myself, in my younger and sillier days.
This motorcycle didn’t resemble any I’d seen, though, much less ridden. Starting with the sound: it had a polite bass roar quite unlike the nervy scream of a high-revving modern sport bike or the smug, look-at-me chug of a Harley. It reminded me of the ‘tock’ of a grandfather clock —…
