Aurora

I didn’t go shopping for a new bike. I wasn’t planning it. Hell, I wasn’t even thinking about it. But the universe has a way of laughing at our plans.

It started on an ordinary stop at the Harley dealer. I’d ordered a clutch cable for Lilith and swung by to check if it had come in. They were having some kind of swap meet out front, so I hung around, talking with one of the employees. I pointed to a Breakout parked nearby and said what I’d said a hundred times before: I’ve always loved the way those look.

He grinned and told me they finally had one in stock. Then he encouraged me to take it for a spin.

I laughed. I was on Rhea, my Scout, and I still owed $9,500 on her. This would be my third bike in thirteen months. There’s no way I’ll get approved for another loan, I told him. He just shrugged and said, Take her for a ride. We can look and see when you get back.

So I did.

And the rest of the world went silent.

I threw my leg over that Breakout, and I lost all conscious thought. Everything about her was right. The stance. The stretch. The power waiting in that Milwaukee-Eight 117. Elegant. Flashy. Mean, but fucking classy.

Love at first ride.

Rhea was the necessary step. She pulled me back into motorcycling after years of absence, after death tried to take me three times. But she had outlived her purpose. I only rode her out of obligation. The spark was gone.

Then came this beauty. This magnificent beast.

How do I describe her? She’s Julia Roberts striding through a crowd of meth whores. She’s the amputated soldier waking to find the lost limb has returned. She’s the angelic being who sits outside the realm of man, watching from above with mild curiosity while mortals scurry below like ants.

When men lay eyes on her, they weep. She is power. She is light. She is life. She is death. She is the spirit that walks between worlds.

And her name is Aurora.

For the first time, I feel complete. Rhea was the spark, Lilith is the queen of darkness, and Aurora is the goddess of light. Two Harleys in my garage now — yin and yang, chrome and black, hell and heaven.

I don’t feel longing anymore. The cosmic order is restored.

I am whole.