The Lonely Road - A Motorcycle Ghost Story
It’s near midnight on Dios de Los Muertos. The day of the dead, the night before Halloween. The rider and the motorcycle are ready to do battle with the road. The road is a thing that must be conquered. The rider accelerates out onto the road, leaving the lights of the roadhouse behind. Smoothly shifting through the gears, the rider reaches cruising speed and waits for the next curve in the road. Good fast curves are what the rider is looking forward to. Leaning the motorcycle over, making an acute angle with the road, is the thrill that the rider craves. The rider feels most alive when he is leaned over, balancing the traction of the tires against the centrifugal force of the curve. Riding a motorcycle in a curve is better than flying. The sense of speed is so much greater because the rider is closer to the road. The rider loves the exhilaration he feels from cheating death by his skill and daring.
Coming out of the first curve, the rider and the motorcycle are upright again. The road is very dark and lonely. Off on the right the rider sees an old wooden church with a single light over the door. Nearby is a small graveyard with old tombstones that are tipping from age. This sight causes the rider to remember other riders who died, victims of the road. The rider continues on when suddenly out of nowhere, another rider appears beside him. The rider looks to his right and is astonished to see that the other rider is his old friend Jim. But this can’t be. Jim died in a fiery crash more than 20 years ago. The rider sees that Jim and his motorcycle seem to shimmer in the darkness. Jim’s gray face is drawn tightly around his skull. His eyes are burning red ovals in his shrunken face. His lips are pulled back in a hideous grin, exposing his rotten teeth. His clothes are tattered rags streaming in the wind.
The rider wonders what is happening. This can’t be real. This must be some kind of hallucination. The rider looks to his left and sees a skeleton riding an antique motorcycle very close beside him. The rider cannot take his eyes off this grizzly sight. The skeleton raises one arm and points ahead. The rider looks at the road ahead and sees that they are rapidly approaching another curve. The rider immediately leans the motorcycle into the curve. The rider would have surely driven off the road if the skeleton had not saved him. He wonders why the skeleton warned him. Where is the skeleton now?
Then the rider notices that there are more shimmering motorcycles beside him and in front of him. The ghostly apparitions are all around him now. Some are so close to him that he could reach out and touch them. The rider and the pack of ghost motorcycle riders sweep into the next curve. Several of the ghosts seem to be taunting him to go faster. Back out on the straight part of the road the rider looks again at Jim. When he does, Jim lifts one hand and curls a boney finger, beckoning the rider. Somehow, inside his helmet, the rider hears Jim say, “Come ride with us.” The rider’s mind is reeling now. Not only is he seeing things, he is hearing things too.
The rider is caught inside the speeding pack of ghosts. He is so scared that he can barely control his motorcycle. He is too scared to speed up and too scared to slow down. The ghosts are in control as the pack sweeps into another curve. The rider knows he is going too fast but he can’t slow down. The ghosts won’t let him. The rider is afraid that he is going to crash but there is nothing he can do. Death is inevitable. The rider runs off the road and smashes into a big tree. Laying on the ground beside his twisted motorcycle, the rider opens his eyes. He can see Jim standing over him but now Jim appears as he looked in life. Jim reaches out a hand and the rider takes it. The rider stands up and looks back at his dead body laying on the ground. Jim says, “You’re one of us now.” The ghost pack of dead riders, forever riding the lonely road.
