The motorbike is stitched together from pieces of other lesser, half disassembled motorbikes. It’s scarred and dented. A Mary Shelley bike. It’s a motorbike, not a motorcycle. The only distinction between the two that I can make is that this motorbike was once a bicycle. The motor was an afterthought, probably commandeered from a small lawnmower or weed eater. The fuel tank is a repurposed water bottle and the cap stays loose. It has been over-tightened. There are no EPA regulations to abide by here.
It still zips through the over-crowded city streets. There are no real, enforceable traffic standards. The street is a death trap. I
t’s also a necessity. Despite the many lives it has claimed, the people have become desensitized to the danger it poses. They don’t care, so I am lulled into a false sense of security. It must not be as dangerous as it seems.
Seven minutes from home to work. I somehow make it there intact, the negotiation of my life everyday has become so mundane I don’t even consider it anymore. The rusty kickstand leans the motorbike to one side. The angle it leans on seems
like a mathematical impossibility, but it doesn’t fall over, counterbalanced by something unseen.
The job is unfulfilling. Three hours on, twenty minutes of rest, three more hours, twenty more minutes, then three hours, then home. They make us rest because the labor is intensive. They tell us it prevents injury and lessens fatigue. We carry bales of cardboard between large machines. Back and forth. Today, my co-worker got fired because the boss saw him lift with his back instead of his legs. They won’t tolerate that sort of thing.
It’s not quite nighttime when I get back to my rusty and dented motorbike. I like this moment. The sky is red and orange on the horizon and fades up into the deep blue sky of falling darkness. A few twinkling stars shine through, a promise of more to come.
My motorbike sputters over the hill, just before it rolls down into the maze of chaos below, and in that moment, after the work is done, with the amber view in my eyes, I am free.
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