The thrill of the bike was something I had missed so much.
StormSprint used to be about bikes for me. Just last year, Nix, Luca, Everly, and I had all raced on the Monaco track. With Luca letting Everly beat him, I only placed behind Nix, which was saying something.
Even if there was quite a gap between us.
Zolt led the way into a national park and to a bike centre where a team was being taken to a course. The woman in high-vis clocked Zolt, and they conversed. He told her he was going to‘take it easy,’and she nodded, still looking him over with concern.
Did she not know he raced in far more dangerous circumstances?
The second she left with one of the tour groups, Zolt squeezed my thigh. “Youready?”
I nodded, the adrenaline already starting to kick in.
He put his helmet back on, and we were off.
The dirt trail was empty, but we could hear the revving of bikes in the distance, part of the tour. We went through every terrain possible, a stream of rocks, a dirt field with hills and craggy ridges where nothing grew. Jagged paths cut across our way; some ran parallel so we could race each other with one nod. Sometimes I’d drown him in my dust.
The wind tore at my jacket, ran through my hair under the helmet, and refreshed my senses.
It was just us, the two bikes, and the heat of the engines.
And I was on cloud nine.
I screamed as we sped down hills and ridges. I cried with laughter as we bumped down the rocks. My ass was going to be so bruised, but I couldn’t live to regret it.
We were wild and free and sweaty.
As the sun pushed aside the clouds, the heat picked up, and despite how much sweat was under my clothes, at least I couldn’t get sunburned. Unless we were in the forest — where we had to slow down — there was no shade, just speed. Just how I liked it.
It was like we were in a different world.
When we got to the race track, Zolt took me around it without rushing, so I wasn’t going to be hit by any surprises when we really raced. But as we came to the penultimate curve and the finish line was in sight, I couldn’t help but twist the throttle and go full speed. He called after me, but I was gone, turning the corner too hard and screaming, but somehow staying upright.Mostly.
I cried out into the wind as my back wheel kicked up a shower of dirt for Zolt to eat.
Maybe racing him wasn’t the best idea just yet.
“Did you see that?” I laughed.
He pulled up next to me. “I heard the scream!”
“It was crazy!”
“You nearly fell on your ass,”he said, shaking his head.
“You’re one to talk,” I said and lightly slapped his arm. He caught it and held it there.“You fell before we even started!”
“That was a warm-up tumble, thank you very much,”he laughed, starting his bike again, looking at me over his shoulder.“Race you the rest. I’ll give you a head start.”
“Don’t need one!”I called, but he was already behind me, in the path of the rocks spinning out from under my wheels.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I shrieked with joy, giving the bike and the dirty path in front of me everything I had.
The last obstacle on the track was a quick slope, about a metre high, that made my bones jolt when I hit the ground again, my spine rattling.
My thighs burned from holding on for dear life, and my mouth tasted like desert shit.
But holy shit — I felt alive.
