“Bavarian Biker”
The first thing you need to know about the “hills” of Bavaria is that they are steep, rocky, and the roads are barely wide enough for the small European cars to squeak past one another. They have sharp, unforgiving twists and turns created by lazy people who rather make the road follow the natural paths rather then make a road people could actually drive. Like most of Germany, the speed limit was nonexistent and seeing an Audi take a curve at 100 mph was a usual sight.
This is something I did not appreciate until now. I was sitting on top of one of the hills with a Kawasaki motorcycle between my sweat-covered legs and a 45-degree decline in front of my eyes. Somehow I was supposed to get this stupid machine down the slope with me atop it, and not die in the process. I was highly cynical toward this possibility. I glanced at my two cousins standing next to me, with their strong, tanned arms crossed and matching looks of skepticism in their Aryan blue eyes.
“Come on, America! Go!” Sebi quipped in a strong accent. Great, now I was representing my whole country. “Show us how much better you are!” The two boys laughed, their voices clanging like bells of the church that woke me up at six in the morning.
“Sie konnte es nicht,” smirked Markus, shaking his head so his curls bounced like little golden slinkies. He was right, I couldn’t do this. The only thing I knew about riding a motorcycle was from hanging off the back trying not to scream as my cousins drove up this accursed path, and what little I had learned from eHow when I was pretending to use the bathroom. What had possessed me to brag that I could drive a bike better then them I do not know. Natural familial competition, I suppose.
“Schau Mir,” I snapped. Watch me. I took a deep breath, focusing on what I knew. I was really regretting that last beer or three. I jammed my borrowed helmet on over my mass of hair, not that it would do much to prevent my brains from scrambling if I hit the pavement at any speed. I slide the mirrored visor down over my eyes, mainly so my cousins wouldn’t see the worry in my eyes or the inevitable tears. I glanced down at my uncovered tanned legs as I buttoned my uncle’s giant leather jacket clothes. Short shorts and converse sneakers were not exactly high-class safety gear. But at least I had a helmet.
My cousins watched me with silent interest as I adjusted the mirrors and squirmed around the seat. Anything to waste time until the inevitable moment. My hands wrapped around the handles on their own accord. There were buttons and gauges everywhere; this was no kid’s toy.
I had remembered seeing my cousins’ twist the handles at some point, so I decided to give it a try. The leather was hot on my right palm as I gripped the handle and yanked it toward me. The bike roared to life and I nearly jumped off in fear of it taking off. I revved it again, this time a little less. I felt so badass, I wish this is all I had to do.
“If you don’t go now Stephanie, we miss dinner!” Sebi yelled at me. They laughed again. God, I was really starting to hate their laugh.
“Ich gehe! Ich gehe!” I snapped back, looking back down at the bike. I flicked the kick stand up with a firm kick from my purple Chuck Taylor and quickly lost balance and almost fell over right there and then. I had to stead myself on my toes, my hamstrings straining to reach the ground.
Taking a deep breath, I reach forward and grabbed the clutch level and pushed the gear stick down to first. Luckily I had grown up learning to drive stick. Benefit of European parents I suppose. I let go of the clutch completely and quickly throttled the engine, causing me to leap forward so fast it took all my upper body strength to keep my from not flying off the back of the bike.
I stifled a scream as I flew down the hill, forgetting all I knew about braking, turning, and common sense in general. I let go of the throttle but still I sped downward
(still working on this AHHHH)
I had made it! The road had de-sloped to the point where it was basically flat and I was slowing rapidly as I approached the next curve. After a few hundred yards I came to a complete stop. I had done it.
And that’s when the car rounded the corner at 75 mph and hit me straight on.
The first thing I registered was the pavement ripping the bare skin off my tumbling leg bones. I felt things cracking all over as I tumbled down the road, and I threw my hands out for something to grip to stop my momentum. The pain came in flashes. My arm, my rib, my toes, my arm again.
I had been falling for hours, for days. At last I began to slow and there was no pain and too much pain at the same time. My body was cold but my legs were warm with blood, my blood. At last I came to a violet stop as my head banged into a tree, the helmet barely muting the blow.
All went black.
I opened my eyes to Markus and Sebi staring at my imploringly.
“Lass uns gehen!” Markus shouted. I looked down once more at the hill before me and shook the images of a gory death from my mind. I could do this. Flashing them a cocky smile that they couldn’t even see due to my trusty helmet, I grabbed the clutch, shifted, revved the engine, and took off.
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