By rts
Note from Metal: This is a continuation of a long-standing story by rts. To start at the beginning, click here.
I was relieved to be getting on my Harley again. It felt weird to be sitting in my piss and sweat soaked leathers in the saddle. I’ve been in all my gear, boots and leathers for 9 days and now locked in them until I get home. The worst part is being constantly trapped in this long sleeve rubber shirt under my jacket hurting with every movement making me sore. I am filthy, smelly, with sweat, piss and stale beer. I am going to be quite the sight on this miserable trip home. It’s about 700 miles and I hope I can do it without any problems in less than 2 days.
I checked the gas and it’s pretty low. Boss told me the nearest station is just over 12 miles and pointed me down the road. I started the bike and headed out. It felt good to be riding again, taking it easy and checking the odometer. When I got to 10 miles the motor started to sputter. I nursed the throttle but only made it another mile before the tank was empty. Crap, I was alone on this empty road, I hadn’t seen another car. Hoping that Boss was right and there was only a mile to go to reach gas, I resigned myself to push my heavy bike that long mile. Lucky for me the road was flat and had no hills to deal with, but locked in my leathers it was a slow long hot sweaty struggle and I had to keep stopping to rest but finally I could see the Gas sign and managed to push the bike the last hundred yards to the pumps. I sat down on the saddle, my leathers squishing with sweat feeling 10 pounds heavy.
