Daily Post, 11 June 2013
I’m spending a great deal of time at home since the young man in the big house brought HER here. Just because I’ve grown older doesn’t mean I can’t beat her at her own game. So she’s a female and hardly makes a sound. Big deal. There was a time when no one would have given her a second look. It’s the glitter and that fancy name. That’s why she turns so many heads. Oh well, there’s no sense in getting overheated. He’ll grow weary of her high maintenance. Wait until she starts running down at the heel. I’ll shine again.
Wait! Someone is coming now. I know those familiar footsteps. The door is swinging wide. The glare from the midday sun makes it impossible to see details, but I know he’s wearing his courting clothes. He always is when he comes.
There’s chattering noise. It doesn’t sound good. This may be my chance to strut my stuff. Yep. She’s not ready and she won’t be for awhile. Look how quickly he looses interest in her.
I knew it! Here he comes. Now is my chance and I’m ready.
He swings his legs over and I like the feeling of his weight on me. And then I’m alive. We leave together, he and I.
Maybe I’m not as pretty as she is, but I was good looker in 1935, seventy-nine years before she was even a spark on someone’s anvil. Nobody ever heard of Gold Wing back then when Knucklehead was the gem of Harley-Davidson motorcycles.