Cafe Racer

Cafe Racer

Louis dropped the spanner, tossed away his rag, and flipped up the kickstand. Now was the time. He depressed the clutch with his hand, leaned to the left, and kicked with the right. The motorcycle sputtered, coughed and then growled to life. It’s attempts to run echoed around the garage, sending tools clattering.

Shep raised an ear at the sound. She’d been listening the entire time Louis was going about his contraption, but couldn’t be bothered seeing what it was. It smelled of oil and metal, nothing fun, and the amount of noise proved her right. Plus the sun was just right. It cut through the leaves of the tree shading the driveway to the garage, heating the concrete but not the air. It was the perfect place for a nap. 

Until Louis came roaring out of the garage. He crouched low over the handle bars of the bike and gunned it hard. Shep watched him shoot down the driveway and make a lazy loop through the yard. Louis was standing up as he bounced the motorcycle over the divers and fallen branches scattered around the yard and back around to the garage. He pulled to a stop next to Shep, lowered the kickstand and left the bike running as he stepped into the garage.

Louis came out with a fresh rag and a helmet. “Alright girl, you can either run along or you can ride. Which is it.”

With that Shep jumped up and shot off down the lane before Louis even had a chance to tie the rag over his mouth and nose.


Today’s art is courtesy of Michal Sawtyruk from Warsaw, Poland.

Which Found Who

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