Daring
“It’s just a whimsy left over from when I was younger.” Jamie flipped back to the catalog page which contained the picture and relevant info on the Triumph Bonneville T100.
“But you’ve never been on a cycle before.” Allyson speared another grapefruit slice into her mouth. Saturday morning breakfast at her place meant a full spread, including the grapefruit because she liked it.
“I rode on the back of my aunt’s T140.” Jamie grinned, then gathered up a cherry blintz from the basket just south of his elbow. “Up and back again down a country road. I was the happiest nine year old in Cumbria.”
“Isn’t that how every little boy’s dream begins? One cool experience plants a seed in the unconscious, and that desire never leaves.”
Allsyon swirled the mixture of orange, cranberry, and apple juices in her glass labeled “Tampa” (an old family souvenir). “I’ll admit wanting real ballet shoes. The ones used in actual performances.” She took a big swallow of her juice concoction. “Ballet is different from motorcycles.”
“Dancing on your toes and practicing starvation is less dangerous than riding on a motorized bike?” Jamie took a large bite from the cherry blintz.
“It’s different levels of danger. But riding a crotch rocket’s got more statistics to verify its not always safe.”
“I’m aware of the risks.”
“I won’t stop you, in case one does come your way.” Allyson touched his arm. “But I do have some right to worry about your safety.”
“I understand, love.” He moved the plate filled with leftover bacon, a quarter-devoured cherry blintz, and some omelette crumbs aside. Then he leaned across the table and kissed her.
Allyson giggled. “If you get a sidecar, maybe I can join you?”
“Could I entice you to wrap your arms round my waist and ride on the back instead?”
“But you’ve never been on a cycle before.” Allyson speared another grapefruit slice into her mouth. Saturday morning breakfast at her place meant a full spread, including the grapefruit because she liked it.
“I rode on the back of my aunt’s T140.” Jamie grinned, then gathered up a cherry blintz from the basket just south of his elbow. “Up and back again down a country road. I was the happiest nine year old in Cumbria.”
“Isn’t that how every little boy’s dream begins? One cool experience plants a seed in the unconscious, and that desire never leaves.”
Allsyon swirled the mixture of orange, cranberry, and apple juices in her glass labeled “Tampa” (an old family souvenir). “I’ll admit wanting real ballet shoes. The ones used in actual performances.” She took a big swallow of her juice concoction. “Ballet is different from motorcycles.”
“Dancing on your toes and practicing starvation is less dangerous than riding on a motorized bike?” Jamie took a large bite from the cherry blintz.
“It’s different levels of danger. But riding a crotch rocket’s got more statistics to verify its not always safe.”
“I’m aware of the risks.”
“I won’t stop you, in case one does come your way.” Allyson touched his arm. “But I do have some right to worry about your safety.”
“I understand, love.” He moved the plate filled with leftover bacon, a quarter-devoured cherry blintz, and some omelette crumbs aside. Then he leaned across the table and kissed her.
Allyson giggled. “If you get a sidecar, maybe I can join you?”
“Could I entice you to wrap your arms round my waist and ride on the back instead?”