Friday, April 16, 2010
I'm leaving a meeting daydreaming about the jungle when I see them. They on their bikes, the lovely older and magnificently well cared for bikes that only serious bikers have. I pull up behind them and I notice them laughing. He's a bit overweight, his hair comes way past his helmet. She's in leathers and has her shades on and I see shades of red hair reflected in the sun. They are easily in their fifties and are on their bikes in the middle of the day. I smile and then I see it. Their license plates. His says El Sancho and hers says Viixen and I realize in that moment that no matter what I do I will never know this, I will never know what it means to let my freak plates fly, that there is a story to how they've earned these names and went and minted them and this is how they are known, on their bikes and with their peeps. El Sancho and the Viixen.
El Sancho reaches down to his saddlebag and digs around and I find myself desperate to know what he keeps in there. Viixen revves her motor and puts her boot on the little metal thing, I am sure it has a name and I yet I have no idea what it's called, all I know is I wish I was on the back of her bike. The light turns green and off they go, El Sancho and the Viixen, they go and they go fast and I want to follow them because wherever they are going must be pretty damn cool.