On Saturday morning, she was having coffee with her father and aunt when they heard a motorcycle coming up their long driveway.
Her father went to the window. ‘That is one big, shiny, black Harley,’ he said, rather enviously. ‘But why’s he carrying a shopping bag?’
‘Maybe he brought breakfast.’
Molly opened the door and quickly introduced George to her father and Aunt Dolores. He accepted their invitation to join them for some home-made apple pie and coffee.
‘Ah. So it’s not breakfast in the bag.’
George winked. ‘Open it and see.’
Intrigued, Molly opened the bag. On top was a pair of leather trousers and a pair of fur-lined leather gloves, followed by a fleece-lined leather jacket. Underneath it all was a heavy leather helmet and a pair of goggles. It was brand new stuff, accompanied by a nice leather smell.
‘You’ll need to wear these to be safe and comfortable on the motorcycle.’ George drained his coffee. ‘That is excellent pie, ma’am.’
Aunt Dolores simpered like a young girl. Both she and Jesse were very impressed that George was so thoughtful, and they liked him immediately.
Molly excused herself to go to her room to put on her motorcycle gear. Aunt Dolores went with her, and helped her dress. She was somewhat self-conscious in her new outfit, which fit her almost to a T, which was surprising to her because she was exceptionally tall and had given no size measurements to George.
‘Your outfit matches George’s!’ giggled Aunt Dolores.
‘Not quite,’ said George, appearing in the hallway. ‘Mine’s not nearly as fetching.’
Before leaving, George helped her adjust her helmet and showed her how to wear her goggles. He showed her how to best hang on and where to place her feet for maximum safety and comfort. Before she knew it, they were out on the road and roaring away from her house.
It didn’t take long to become less anxious and even reasonably comfortable riding behind George. Of course, there was no chance of conversation between them because of the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind. As she relaxed she began to pay attention to the scenic vistas rushing by as they roared down the road. It was amazing to her how much more beautiful and clear the landscapes looked from the open-air viewpoint of the motorcycle as compared to riding in an automobile. She also began to become aware of how smooth the motorcycle rode and how well and solid it performed along the surface of the road.
The road passed by one small farm after another. It was a very pleasant and enjoyable scene of pretty farm houses, surrounded by neat, well-maintained barns and other out-buildings, all set within bucolic fields of grazing animals and colorful brown to black tilled fields; some containing crops in various stages of growth. Every ten to fifteen minutes, George would slow down as they proceeded through pretty little villages and towns. She was conscious of nearly everyone, walking along the sidewalks in the downtown areas of these neat little communities, gawking at them as they went by.
It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day, and although the wind blowing by them was chilly, it was invigorating. Dressed in her leather motorcycle outfit, she was comfortably warm. As they were pulling out of the fifth or sixth little town on their route, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a thrill, a feeling of joy. She hadn't felt this good in years, if ever.
Molly was basking in the glow of her euphoria, when suddenly she became aware of a din of engine and crowd noises, which they were rapidly approaching on their right front. She soon saw the source of the noise as George slowed down to turn into the grounds surrounding the racetrack. The grounds were a sea of people, most of them dressed as she and George were, surging around more motorcycles than she had ever seen in her lifetime, interspersed among the many pickup trucks and automobiles.
As George pulled into an area of parked motorcycles, he was greeted by the many men and women standing around their "bikes." It was obvious to Molly that he was well-known. He parked his bike and, as soon as the two of them dismounted, they were surrounded by a large crowd of people, all of them curious about who George had brought with him to the races. George introduced her to the crowd, and they responded with a warm, enthusiastic welcome.
After chatting for a few minutes, the crowd began to move, en masse, toward the spectator bleachers. As soon as they reached the edge of the stands, the crowd began to separate as individuals and small groups began to go to their seats. George escorted her to two seats located midway up and in the center of the stands. They had excellent seats from which to observe the races.