Chapter 11

Or maybe I don’t know myself after all.

That was one scary thought, but in a way it made a weird kind of sense.

He stood, wolfed down the last bite of tortilla, and tossed a grin back at Eric. “You’re on. Lead me tothis iron horse. Let’s ride.”

The Harley was a thing of beauty, different from a good cowpony, but with some of the same feeling of power and energy. Eric helped him with the helmet. “Let me get on first. Then you just swing on behind me. We can talk through the two-way once we get going.”

Gingerly, Damon swung his leg over, settled on the buddy seat, and put his feet on the second set of pegs. Eric revved the motor. The next thing Damon knew, they were flying out the gate to head off up the road toward the hills. It was exhilarating to feel the wind pushing against him, to see the scenery rushing past, not like in a car or truck but right there, up close and personal one could say. Reach-out-and-touch close without the insulation of metal and glass.