I held Dutch tight enjoying the exhilarating freedom as he mastered the tight curves of the road just as he maneuvered around my own curves with his hands. Dutch always assured me he babied the throttle so as not to frighten me, just like in bed when he told me he was holding back for my benefit, but I felt like we were going a hundred miles per hour. Sheila pulled up next to us with Locke just behind her. The three bikes cruised up the mountain in perfect harmony, the roar echoing for miles. Sheila was on her 1200 Custom Sportster decked out in deep red. Locke was on his custom chopper with the raked front end and wild graphics. Dutch and I rode his custom Heritage Softail, a classic Harley that I had come to adore as much for its smooth ride as its sturdy good looks. Just like its owner. We reached the lake and found a spot to pull off the road. It was late summer, still warm, but the crowds were gone. We found a nice little beach down below and after a short hike, the four of us settled in for a pleasant afternoon.
