Ride

Ride

We arrive at a traffic light, the road ahead of us is clear.  The hum of our electric motors is lost in the other traffic noise.  I lean over, looking at the other driver, a woman on a bike with similar styling to mine.  "Wanna race?"  I ask, watching a smile cross her face.  She nods instantly and reaches forward, making a couple of adjustments to her gauge-panel.
"You'll be sorry," she responds, I can only laugh.  I take position on my bike, ready to open the throttle up when the light changes.  There's a pause as the lamps for the cross traffic flip from green to yellow to red.  The last vehicle makes its turn and I hold my breath slightly.

The lamp turns green and we both open the throttle up.  There's a deep hum underneath us as the electric motors begin to provide power again.  We start off neck-in-neck but soon her bike begins to overtake mine, I can't believe what I'm seeing as she begins to put distance between us.  I open my throttle up all the way, the motor in my bike is humming loudly, but I just can't seem to catch her.

The next light is still over a kilometer away, maybe I can catch up.  I watch as leans almost to the ground when we come into a turn, the pavement is almost two centimeters from her face, I've never seen anyone do something so daring before.  I lean into the turn as well, only slightly though, enough to move my bike's centre of gravity.  We come out of the turn, she's way ahead of me now, I can see the light in the distance, it's red.  Does she plan to run it!?  It looms closer and closer; I contemplate braking but the light turns green and I open the throttle.  My speedometer red-lines, my bike won't go any faster!  She's way ahead of me now, there's no possible way I can win.

Up ahead, she looks back and sees how far behind I'm trailing.  I watch her sit up and throw her head back in a laugh before pulling off and flagging me down.  I pull up behind her and can only stare.  "How did you get such a powerful bike?"  I ask, seeing that her speedometer is a digital readout, not a dial gauge like mine.  She holds a finger to her lips and winks, a signal to me that it's a secret.  I sigh slightly and nod but she laughs softly.

"You can get one like mine, but it's expensive," she says, hopping back on her bike then taking off, her tires squealing.  I can't see any logos on her bike or her jump suit that tell me of a manufacturer.  Wondering if she modified it herself, I hop back on my bike and head off.  Arriving home, I ponder what it would be like to travel at such high speeds all the time…