Page 78 of Misadventures of a Biker

Devin

Taking a piece of advice from the old man, Teddi and I were walking along the beach, barefoot. In a matter of fifteen minutes, the sun would be setting.

“Are you sure no one’s going to mess with our shoes?” she asked.

“If there’s one thing that won’t get messed with, anywhere,” I assured her, “it’s an old tattered Harley and whatever’s hanging from the handlebars.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right.”

Over the years, I’d parked my motorcycle at bars, restaurants, rural side streets, and busy shopping malls. Not once was it—or whatever was on it or in it—messed with. There was an unwritten code that was understood by bikers and non-bikers alike.

You don’t mess with a man’s Harley.

We walked along the beach, where the ocean pulsed against the surface of the sand. Every few steps we took, the summer’s warm tide cleansed our feet from the grains trapped between our toes. I held Teddi’s hand in mine, knowing one thing it would never wash away would be the memories we were making together.

With her designer bags, red-bottom shoes, Range Rover, and the petite gold Rolex watch she often wore, Teddi wasn’t at all who I would have expected to fall in love with. I came to believe after meeting Teddi that whom we fall in love with wasn’t a conscious choice we made. It merely happened, and it was up to us to recognize it.

Convinced her existence in my life was something I’d somehow earned, I strolled along the beach, wondering just what that something might have been.

Although I’d never been what I would describe as a bad person, I wasn’t a good one by anyone’s definition either. My trip to prison might have been unwarranted for the crime I’d been charged with, but there were several other crimes I’d escaped conviction on during my tenure as an outlaw biker.

Teddi tugged against my hand. “Look,” she said, facing the horizon. “It’s happening.”

The sun fell behind a ribbon of low-lying clouds. The sky behind her illuminated. Orange and purple hues replaced the evening’s powder-blue landscape. Pink melded in, casting a reflection on the ocean’s surface worthy of praise.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

I studied the silhouette of her face. The breathtaking colors that spread along the horizon went out of focus. The image I was left with was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

“It sure is,” I said in agreement, although we were talking about two different things.

We gazed at the horizon until the sky darkened to indigo. Speechless, we faced each other and kissed.

“I love you,” she said.

I swept her hair behind her ear with the tip of my finger. “I love you too.”

“I want to thank you again for allowing me into Herb’s life. I adore that guy.”

“Thanks for putting up with him.”

“He’s easy.”

I took her hand in mine and walked up the beach, toward where we’d parked the motorcycle. Mixed in with the vacationers, lovestruck teens, and others just like us, we worked our way to the boulevard that followed the shore.

“My life is nothing short of perfect,” she said.

“Do you believe that?” I asked.

“I do.”

“You need nothing?”

“Need?” she asked. “No.”

“Want?” I asked.