I Can't Drive 55

I Can’t Drive 55

by S.E. Wallace

         Freddy got out of school early that day, so he was the first one to see it.
         Jerry’s beautiful Kawasaki 825 motorcycle - all shine and chrome - sat on the grass strip between the sidewalk and the street. Fat tires. Swept back pipes. V-twin engine. Jerry said it could go like a bat outta hell. Claimed he’d had it up to 75 mph on the highway with no problem at all.
         His parents had given it to him as an early graduation present last month. Now, it had a ‘For Sale’ sign taped to it.
         Thinking about Jerry these days made Freddy feel uneasy. It seemed like right after he got the bike, he got sick. Then, his parents took him out of school altogether. The last anyone had heard, he’d been shipped off to some special hospital. And he wasn’t expected to come back. Ever.
         Freddy ambled over to the bike. It was brand new. Must have cost six or seven grand. Jerry had only ridden it for a few weeks. Wonder what they want for it?
         Freddy’s jaw fell open when he read the sign. It said, “Make an Offer.”
         What? His parents had sunk a lot of bucks into that bike! How could they let it go that easy?
         Hmm…maybe the bike reminded them of Jerry, and that he was supposed to graduate next week, with his whole life ahead of him. Freddy thought, if it was me, I guess I’d feel the same way.
         “You lookin’ to buy it?”
         A man that must have been Jerry’s grandfather was sitting on the porch. The family resemblance was remarkable. For a split second Freddy thought, that’s what Jerry will look like when he gets old.
         Correction. If.
         Freddy walked up to the porch.
         “I’m one of Jerry’s friends…”
         “Junior.”
         “Yeah, that’s right.” Freddy said. “He always calls me Junior. How’d you know?”
         The old man shrugged. “Wild guess.”
         “Ok.” Freddy said. “Cool.”
         Geez, Freddy thought, Jerry must be going fast if his relatives are showing up already. Should I ask about him? Naw, better not. Might make the old man feel bad.
         “Great bike.” Freddy said.
         “Hateful thing.” the old man replied. “Be glad when it’s gone.”
         “Yeah” Freddy replied, wondering how he was going to get out of this conversation. “What’s he want for it?”
         “Best offer.”
         “And, if someone were to offer him…say…$700, he’d die laughing, huh?” Freddy said, chuckling. Man, I wish I hadn’t used the word ‘die,’ he thought.
         “$700?”
         Freddy shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got. But, I don’t think…”
         “I’ll let him know.” the old man said curtly. With a squeak of springs, he lifted himself out of the lawn chair and headed inside.
         “Come by tomorrow.” he said, reaching for the handle. “I’ll give you the answer then.”
         With a bang of the screen door, he was gone.

         The next day, Freddy walked past Jerry’s house again. He didn’t really expect him to take the offer seriously. But, there was always a chance…
         “So, Junior, you’re back.” The old man was sitting exactly where he’d been yesterday.
         “Yeah.” Freddy said. “But, I don’t expect…”
         “Jerry says he’ll take the $700.”
         Freddy was speechless.
         “Huh…..wha……?”
         “He said he wants your money.” the old man said. “Oh, and he said he wants his girl back, too.”
         “Susie?” Freddy asked, confused.
         “Yup.”
         “She ain’t my girl.” Freddy said. “She just went out with me to make him jealous. But, he ended up dumping her instead.”
         “S’that how you say it went?” the old man asked.
         “That’s the truth, sir.”
         The old man stared at him, waiting for him to flinch. Freddy stared back.
         After a bit, the old man asked, “You got the money?”
         “It’s in the bank.” Freddy said, looking at his watch. “On Fridays, they close at 6:00, so I’ve still got time to get it.”
         “Then, git, before I change my mind!”
         Freddy got.

         Man, this bike has got it goin’ on! Freddy thought as he rode home. Smooth, quiet ride. Too comfortable for words…like sitting in the recliner at home. He couldn’t believe Jerry’d sold it to him for $700. (Especially since he was still mad about his date with Susie.) They must be hurtin’ for money, Jerry decided. Maybe I can send them a few dollars now and then…sort of a Thank You.

         His parents kept him busy all day Saturday, helping out at home. Each time he passed by the bike, he’d look at it longingly, and wish for five minutes on the road.
         But when Sunday arrived, he was free to do what he wanted. Keys in hand, he called a goodbye to his folks and rode away.
         As he accelerated, he remembered the old man cautioning him not to take the bike over 55 mph. Sure, Freddy thought, I’m not dumb. I can put two and two together…the low price plus the old man’s caution. It must have a nasty high-speed wobble or something when it goes above 55. I don’t want to dump my new bike right away (or myself). Nice and easy. That’s the ticket.
         The highway slid by beneath him, like riding on air. The bike cornered like a dream, and it seemed to go forever on one tank of gas. On the trip home, Freddy looked down at the speedometer only to find himself going 65 mph! Immediately, he slowed down to 55, but he was confused. The bike had ridden beautifully! Where was the problem?
         Oh, I get it, Freddy thought. When Jerry’d gotten the bike, it was brand new. It hadn’t been broken in yet. That could account for any problems Jerry had with it. By now it had smoothed out, that’s all.
         Freddy looked at the straight-away in front of him and couldn’t resist. He poured on the throttle. The ride was fabulous! No shimmy at all! The bike stuck to the road like glue.
         By the time he got home, Freddy had quit worrying about using most of his college savings for the bike. It was the best deal he’d ever made!

         When he got up for school the next day, he made an amazing discovery…he’d started to grow a beard! (Up until then, all the kids had called him ‘Junior’ because he had no facial hair.) While he guided the razor over his face, he mused that he had two things to tell his friends today.
         Of course, his friends were suitably un-impressed, especially since they had been shaving for a year or two. At lunch, when Freddy dropped into his seat in the cafeteria, that all changed.
         “Whoa, dude!” Mike said. “What’s with the Chewbacca look?”
         Freddy laughed, thinking they were teasing him for being the last to shave. But, the other guys echoed Mike’s comment.
         “Geez, whatcha been doin’, Junior? Savin’ it up?” Buck said.
         “Alright, alright.” Freddy said. “You’ve had your fun…”
         “No, really.” Mike said. “I’m serious as a heart attack. You’re one Hairy Barry!”
         Freddy reached up to his face and was shocked to find a full day’s growth of beard!
         Buck said, “By dinnertime, he’ll be able to pass for one of those ZZ Top guys!”
         He wasn’t exactly right. But, he was close.

         The next morning, Freddy threw a razor into his backpack, thinking he’d do a
quick shave at lunch. During his ten o’clock class, he leaned his cheek on his hand…and realized he needed a shave already! In the restroom, he hurried to finish the job during the break between classes. That’s when he noticed the crease in his forehead. He’d been checking for pimples and had come up with a wrinkle instead! What the heck was this?
         This went on for several days. Each day brought a new line or a thicker beard. The day he awoke to a chest full of dark, curly hair, he went to his parents for help.

         The doctor told them that there was a syndrome that caused rapid aging, but it normally wasn’t this accelerated. He suggested a specialist in a nearby town who might be able to set things straight.
         After the family left, the doctor sat staring at the wall until his secretary called him for his next patient. As he made his way to the examining room, he was still thinking, that makes two.
         The specialist started Freddy on a series of treatments, not really expecting any change. Both he and Freddy’s family physician had seen another case like this, only a month ago. Despite all their medicines, the patient continued to age, growing more frail everyday.

         Freddy let his beard grow for graduation, and trimmed it just before the ceremony. He combed his hair down over his forehead in an effort to hide the wrinkles. But, his classmates stared just the same.
         During the reception, he overheard Susie’s dad asking her if they had a special
exchange student in their class.
         “Rather old to be graduating High School, don’t you think?” he asked.
         Susie tried to shush him, but the damage had been done.
         Freddy had been looking forward to the Graduation Night Party, but his friends avoided him, as if they were afraid to ‘catch’ whatever it was he had. He felt more like a chaperone than one of the kids. So, he tossed his cap and gown into the trash can, climbed onto his bike and rode home.

         His mother’s crying woke him the next morning, and the fear in her eyes drove him out of the house. He walked for an hour or so before he found himself on Jerry’s street. As he passed the house, the old man called out to him from the porch.
         “Junior! You did it, didn’t you?”
         “Beg pardon?” Freddy said.
         “You drove it over 55.” the old man stated.
         What the hell do I care about a motorcycle with all that’s been happening recently? he thought, and walked on.
         “You’re aging fast now, aren’t you?” the old man called after him.
         Freddy froze in his tracks.
         “That’s what I thought.” the old man said. “Come here.”
         Freddy climbed the porch steps with a feeling of foreboding.
         “How’d you know?” he asked.
         “Because….I’m Jerry.”
         Freddy’s eyes widened, and he wondered if he was going to pass out.
         “Siddown, before you hurt yourself.” Jerry commanded.
         Freddy all but fell into the chair next to him, his eyes never leaving Jerry’s ancient face.
         “Now listen up, because I don’t have the wind to repeat myself anymore.” he said. “Last month, my old man came home with the motorcycle, grinnin’ like a monkey. ‘Best deal I ever made!’ he says. ‘Happy graduation!’ Said he got it from some freaky sales guy at a swap meet. The guy told him, don’t drive it over 55 mph cuz something bad might happen. (Guess we know what that is, huh, Junior?)
         “Anyway, Dad didn’t tell me about this part until later. See, he’d had been trying to muscle it into the pickup by himself, but it was too much for one guy. He remembered the sales guy looked pretty buff so he walked back to where the booth was…and there’s nothing there! No freaky guy. No trailer full of bikes. Not even a cigarette butt on the ground. It’s like the guy had never been there.
         “ ’Course by now, Dad was thinking this must have been some kinda fly-by-night operation, and he’d gotten ripped off somehow. Like, the engine might be empty inside or something. But when we fired her up, she purred like a happy cat! Even so, Dad told me to take it slow for awhile, just in case, ya know?”
         Freddy nodded, mesmerized, yet afraid to hear the rest of the story.
         “So, there I was with this awesome bike, tooling down the highway, on top of the world! Sure, I took it easy. Never went over 50. Hell, I was happy-out-of-my-mind to have that bike…why screw it up?
         “I was a real good boy for a couple weeks. By then, my old man figures the engine’s been broken in good enough, and maybe I can try a little more speed. So, I do. Just a bit at a time, ya know? Then one day, I look at that digital speedometer…you ever seen one of those on a bike before?”
         Freddy considered, then shook his head no.
         “Me, neither.” Jerry said. “Anyway, the read-out says ‘75.’ I got the weirdest feeling then…like the numbers were accusing me or something…but it was too late to take it back.”
         Jerry stared sightlessly at the ground, lost in the memory.
         “When I got home that night, it was past dark. I parked the bike in the garage and headed inside. I flipped the light switch off and, when I reached for the door handle, I realized I could still see the bike! It wasn’t glowing in the dark or anything like that. It was…aw, hell…it’s like it was alive now, ya know? Like, going too fast woke it up or something.”
         He turned to Freddy.
         “Sounds stupid, huh?”
         Freddy shook his head.
         “No way, man.” he said, remembering how the bike had felt to him. “Did it seem like it was laughing at you?”
         Jerry’s eyes widened.
         “Yeah!” he said, swallowing hard. “That’s it, exactly!”
         They sat in silence for a moment before Jerry went on.
         “It wasn’t long before I noticed I was aging, and fast. Ma shipped me off down south to see a specialist. I imagine you’ve seen him, too?”
         “Dr. Macklewayne?” Freddy asked. “Yeah, I’ve been there.”
         “Well, you can throw them pills away, Junior.” Jerry said. “Cuz they aren’t going to change anything. Just looking at me should tell you that.
         “Since I couldn’t go to school, I mostly surfed the internet, to make the time pass. Somehow, I ended up at the Kawasaki site. I found out something real interesting while I was there. Kawi makes an 800 cruiser, and they make an 850. But, they don’t make an 825!”
         “But…the bike I bought…” Freddy stuttered.
         “I know.” Jerry said. “It’s an 825, bigger than life. I don’t think Kawi made it
though. I think it came from somewhere else.”
         “Where?”
         “Now, where do you think such a thing would come from, dummy?” Jerry sneered. “First, I crank it up to 75, and now I am 75 ! Then, you bought it…how fast did you go, anyway?”
         Freddy’s dizziness returned, as he remembered how the large red numbers had seemed to dance.
         “97.” he said, in a hoarse whisper.
         Jerry whistled as Freddy got up and stumbled off the porch. When he reached the sidewalk, he turned around.
         “If you knew it was gonna do this, why’d you sell it to me?” he asked.
         Jerry’s eyes were cold and hard.
         “Well, let’s put it this way…you won’t be stealin’ anyone’s girl anymore, will you?”

         The manager at the wrecking yard had received a strange request. An old man and a middle aged couple brought a brand new motorcycle to be demolished. And the old man insisted on watching the whole procedure.
         The manager named a price and pocketed the money. Sure, it was Ok for them to watch. But, they had to stay back so they wouldn’t be hit with flying debris.
         He stood with the somber group, explaining what would happen and how, thinking it would interest them. But, instead they simply stood and watched until the forklift drove up with a crushed block of metal. The name Kawasaki was emblazoned on one side of the cube. Satisfied, the three thanked the manager and drove away.
         When their car was well down the road, the manager went into his office and picked up the phone.
         “Yeah, Pete? This is Willy, at the wrecking yard. Got something you might wanna look at. Brand spankin’ new KZ 825 Cruiser. Yeah, that’s right. I’ve never heard of an 825 either. But then again, I don’t know bikes.
         “Tell you what…I know this things worth more, but I’ll let you have it for $2000 cash money. Yep, that’s what I said. Oh, really? I didn’t know you had a kid old enough to graduate! Yeah, it’d be the perfect gift. Send him off to college in style!
         “Sure, sure. I’m open ‘til 5, and I can wait a bit if you’re late. But, not too long, mind you! The wife makes her special meatloaf on Fridays, and I’ll be in a hurry to get to it!
         “Alright, see you then.”
         The manager was quite pleased that the old guy hadn’t noticed he’d switched bikes on him. And, he wished he could see the look on Pete’s kid’s face when he saw his ‘graduation present.’ What a lucky kid!