- Dec 27, 2015
- 3,062
- 1,899
- 69
- Country
- Australia
- Faith
- Catholic
- Marital Status
- Married
THAT NAGGING FEELING
Tom pulled off the gloves. It had been a cold ride, the temperature just reaching 15 degrees if the weather forecast was correct - cold but satisfying. The gloves had been handy though – his hands would have been blocks of ice by now if he'd left them behind.
The biker group had ridden hard along the Brisbane Valley Highway, and had pulled up at Esk, to take a break, and wait for the late comers. They weren't a gang, just a group of older blokes and some women who enjoyed riding motor bikes, usually the larger type.. They called themselves the 'The Grey Angels”. It was a bit of a word play on the 'Hell's Angels', which was a club of an altogether different stripe.
Some of the other members said the rumour was that, oddly enough, the businesses located next to or nearby the Hell's Angels didn't mind them being there. The reason was that the crime rate in the immediate vicinity of the bikie gang's headquarters was non-existent. Not one break and entry was on the books within a hundred meter radius. The cynical joke was “I wonder why?”
“Hey Tom” called one of the others, a joker by the name of Dennis, “Have you forgotten anything?” Tom was perplexed, but he knew something was afoot. He thought he could hear a few muttered jokes and some subdued laughter, more like snickers.
Truth to tell, he did have this nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He'd done a pretty thorough job on his check list before he left home, and he was quite sure he hadn't missed anything.
Still, the feeling was there.
Whatever it was, he seemed to be the only one not in on the joke.
But that was bikers for you – always taking the mickey out of you.
He looked over his machine with a fond eye. He wasn't a fan of Harley Davidsons himself, and had a shaft drive Yamaha. He would have preferred a BMW, but that was out of his price range. He thought Harleys were overrated, and a status symbol. He preferred reliability, and better handling.
He touched the pannier bags. Hard plastic with a metal frame, they kept the goods dry and clean inside. He was tempted to open them and go through the contents just to make sure everything was there, but that would just be playing into the other jokers' hands. If they saw him checking his side panniers, they'd know they had him worried.
So he left them alone.
He cast his mind back – toolbox – check. Wallet – check. Mobile phone – check. And he went through the list as far as he could remember. Nothing – nothing – was missing as far as he was concerned. He'd even put in a torch in case they got held up and needed some light at night.
One of the biker's lady friends walked up. “Tom” she giggled, “we're not sure, but we still think you've forgotten something.”
He eyed her warily. “Look” he said, “I don't know what this joke is about, but I've just been through the list in my mind, and I can't think of anything. So far the bike ride has gone without a hitch, and if anyone has had a problem, it hasn't been me!”
And he stalked off to the gents, watched by a group of grinning comrades.
He finished there, and walked a couple of blocks to the bakery. It was pretty good, and he didn't mind a pie or two, especially in the cool weather they'd had today. It was going to get colder too, as the sun started to go down later. The pies would warm him up, and give him something to enjoy instead of worrying about this nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something.
“Enjoying the meal?” came the well known voice. It was the club captain, Miko, and he sat down at the next table, pushing the chair back a long way to accommodate his bulk. He smirked. “We still think you might have left something behind though.”
“What the hell...” snapped Tom, “if you're all so damned sure that I've forgotten something, why don't you just say what it is!”
“Ah, nah, we'd rather let it speak for itself”. Miko laughed, and pointed to the support vehicle which had just drawn up in front of the bakery.
To Tom's acute embarassment, the rear door opened, and out hopped one livid little lady, dressed in bike leathers, and carrying a helmet.
She crossed over to Tom who was frozen to the spot with a pie halfway to his mouth.
“You idiot!” she snarled, “You forgot me!! I'm your wife! You left me sitting in the park at flaming Ipswich, like a leather clad shag on a rock! If the rally car hadn't picked me up, I'd still be there.”
Tom rode home alone.
Tom pulled off the gloves. It had been a cold ride, the temperature just reaching 15 degrees if the weather forecast was correct - cold but satisfying. The gloves had been handy though – his hands would have been blocks of ice by now if he'd left them behind.
The biker group had ridden hard along the Brisbane Valley Highway, and had pulled up at Esk, to take a break, and wait for the late comers. They weren't a gang, just a group of older blokes and some women who enjoyed riding motor bikes, usually the larger type.. They called themselves the 'The Grey Angels”. It was a bit of a word play on the 'Hell's Angels', which was a club of an altogether different stripe.
Some of the other members said the rumour was that, oddly enough, the businesses located next to or nearby the Hell's Angels didn't mind them being there. The reason was that the crime rate in the immediate vicinity of the bikie gang's headquarters was non-existent. Not one break and entry was on the books within a hundred meter radius. The cynical joke was “I wonder why?”
“Hey Tom” called one of the others, a joker by the name of Dennis, “Have you forgotten anything?” Tom was perplexed, but he knew something was afoot. He thought he could hear a few muttered jokes and some subdued laughter, more like snickers.
Truth to tell, he did have this nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He'd done a pretty thorough job on his check list before he left home, and he was quite sure he hadn't missed anything.
Still, the feeling was there.
Whatever it was, he seemed to be the only one not in on the joke.
But that was bikers for you – always taking the mickey out of you.
He looked over his machine with a fond eye. He wasn't a fan of Harley Davidsons himself, and had a shaft drive Yamaha. He would have preferred a BMW, but that was out of his price range. He thought Harleys were overrated, and a status symbol. He preferred reliability, and better handling.
He touched the pannier bags. Hard plastic with a metal frame, they kept the goods dry and clean inside. He was tempted to open them and go through the contents just to make sure everything was there, but that would just be playing into the other jokers' hands. If they saw him checking his side panniers, they'd know they had him worried.
So he left them alone.
He cast his mind back – toolbox – check. Wallet – check. Mobile phone – check. And he went through the list as far as he could remember. Nothing – nothing – was missing as far as he was concerned. He'd even put in a torch in case they got held up and needed some light at night.
One of the biker's lady friends walked up. “Tom” she giggled, “we're not sure, but we still think you've forgotten something.”
He eyed her warily. “Look” he said, “I don't know what this joke is about, but I've just been through the list in my mind, and I can't think of anything. So far the bike ride has gone without a hitch, and if anyone has had a problem, it hasn't been me!”
And he stalked off to the gents, watched by a group of grinning comrades.
He finished there, and walked a couple of blocks to the bakery. It was pretty good, and he didn't mind a pie or two, especially in the cool weather they'd had today. It was going to get colder too, as the sun started to go down later. The pies would warm him up, and give him something to enjoy instead of worrying about this nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something.
“Enjoying the meal?” came the well known voice. It was the club captain, Miko, and he sat down at the next table, pushing the chair back a long way to accommodate his bulk. He smirked. “We still think you might have left something behind though.”
“What the hell...” snapped Tom, “if you're all so damned sure that I've forgotten something, why don't you just say what it is!”
“Ah, nah, we'd rather let it speak for itself”. Miko laughed, and pointed to the support vehicle which had just drawn up in front of the bakery.
To Tom's acute embarassment, the rear door opened, and out hopped one livid little lady, dressed in bike leathers, and carrying a helmet.
She crossed over to Tom who was frozen to the spot with a pie halfway to his mouth.
“You idiot!” she snarled, “You forgot me!! I'm your wife! You left me sitting in the park at flaming Ipswich, like a leather clad shag on a rock! If the rally car hadn't picked me up, I'd still be there.”
Tom rode home alone.
