In the Long White Smoke
After class, I used to hang out at my usual bike shop, chatting with friends about trivial things or going for a ride. One day, she appeared in the midst of this ordinary routine.
“Excuse me~! I want a bike~.”
She had come to the bike shop I frequented to buy a Honda CBR400F. The shop employee laughed and pointed to a bike parked on the sidewalk.
“This one’s more fun than the CBR.”
“It’s a test ride bike, so you can take it out.”
“Hey, give her the key.”
“Huh?”
Hey, that’s not a test bike—it’s mine! Slightly annoyed, I pulled the key from my pocket and handed it to her.
Back then, I had a cynical attitude towards women.
“…Women should just stick to something like a VT.”
“…She probably can’t handle it anyway.”
In a grumpy tone, I said,
“The engine’s already warm, so you can rev it right away.”
…She’ll probably start off slow anyway…
She kicked the starter, then slowly rode to the intersection a few meters ahead. While waiting for the light to change, she gave the throttle a few playful revs. As the signal on the main road turned yellow and then red, she checked both sides, then smoothly engaged the clutch at high RPM and darted out onto the road. She gently took the corner to the right, and with long white smoke trailing from the twin chambers, she accelerated with perfect control.
In that moment, my heart raced. The smell of burning two-stroke oil lingered, and I stood there listening to the sound of the exhaust fading into the distance.
It was a moment that not only made me rethink my old views on women but also marked the first step in being drawn to her.
When she returned from the test ride, without any hesitation, she filled out an order form for a TZR250, just like mine but in a different color.