Crouching in his driveway, Tom meticulously wiped the polishing rag on his motorcycle in one, last wide arc. He then took a step back to take a proud look at his newly cleaned Harley-Davidson. The bike’s glossy licorice black body contrasted the polished chrome inner-workings and handlebars.The chrome glimmered like fresh fallen snow on a clear winter day, a product of Tom’s unrivaled love and dedication for his new vehicle. This motorcycle was capable of propelling Tom down the Interstates and backroads with fluidity and with ease.
Tom had just graduated summa cum laude from college a few years back with a degree in economics. His broad, burly stature complemented the masculinity of his motorcycle. Every since he was a pint-sized school-age boy, he had been saving up for a Harley. Luckily for him, he had found a well-paying job right after college allowing him to allocate some of it to his Harley fund while still paying off the mortgage on his new house and prudently making contributions to his retirement fund. His love for the vehicles stemmed from the time his father, an avid biker himself, decided Tom was old enough to go ride along with him on a motorcycle. Tom vividly remembered the moment he first felt the low, hypnotic rumbling and vibration of the bike going through his body. When the monstrous roar of the engine filled Tom’s ears, he was smiling from ear to ear. He was hooked. From that day on, he made a vow to himself that he would one day own a motorcycle so he would be able to hear the sounds and feel the rumbling every single day.
Tom took the cleaning supplies from his driveway and impatiently dumped them into the well-kept one car garage. Grabbing the keys to his Harley, he fumbled about attempting to insert them into the keyhole. Vrrooom. The motorcycle roared to life and Tom sped down the street. He revved his engine, giggling like a little school-girl, and his hair flowed behind him in the wind. The wind hitting his face was almost euphoric. After going a few blocks, he decided to stop at a barbershop as his hair was now unruly and he wanted to look his best on his Harley. He swiftly pulled into a parking spot directly outside the barbershop. Tom entered the building and gruffly asked the woman behind the counter for a slight trim. She nodded approvingly and directed him to a leather chair a few feet away. Tom shuffled over to the chair and plopped down. Looking around the barbershop, he observed his surroundings as he had never gone to this particular barbershop before. From the outside, it looked sketchy and dilapidated. The brick walls needed to be cleaned and replaced as there was graffiti draw all over it and in some spots the brick was missing or slowly eroding away. The ground was littered with cigarette butts and trash from nearby businesses. The yellow awning had faded and ripped from years of exposure to the strong ultraviolet rays of the sun and strong gusts of wind. There seemed to be a lack of care for the building though on the inside of the barbershop, it was the complete opposite. The marble flooring and large frescoes on the wall gave it a luxurious feel. Bright lighting and soft leather seating was inviting for patrons. The soft jazz in the background was conducive for relaxation and created an environment where one would stay for hours. Tom closed his eyes for a few minutes while he waited for the barber to start cutting. When he opened his eyes to see what was taking so long, he saw out of the corner of his eye a group of large men crowding around his motorcycle. Fearing the worse, he jumped out of chair and bolted for the door.
Tom vigorously pushed open the door and walked over to his bike wondering what was going on. One of the men suddenly turned around and shoved Tom away. These men were gargantuan, making Tom look like a mere runt compared to them. They were all dressed in matching leather jackets and blue denim jeans with bandannas over their mouths. Tom was pushed to the ground from the monstrous force of the shove.
“Look, we can make it very simple for you”, one of the masked men assertively said.
“Wha...wha.. what are y-you going to d-do to me?”, Tom sheepishly responded, now fearing for his life.
“We’re just going to take your motorcycle and everything will be alright.”
Tom pondered over whether or not he should just give up his Harley. He had worked hard over many years just to get enough money to purchase the vehicle and didn’t want to just hand over the bike. He decided to risk it and say no to their offer, even though he knew something bad might happen to him as a result of it. The men looked at each other with mischievous grins on their faces. Uh oh, Tom thought to himself. His heart was now beating much faster, adrenaline began to fill his body, his brain couldn’t comprehend and keep up with what was going on as he played through every possible scenario, good and bad, in his mind. Two men swept him from his feet and held him in place while the rest of the men quickly and skillfully loaded the bike into the back of a commercial van. Tom tried calling for help, but it was too late. These men knew what they were doing and were pretty skilled at it too. With one powerful blow to the side of Tom’s head, he was out cold. The two men who restrained him loaded his unconscious body into the back of the van.
Waking up a few hours later, Tom’s head was throbbing. He felt blood flowing down his body like snowmelt during the beginning of spring. He stiffly turned his head trying to figure out where he was. Tom needed some time for his pupils to dilate in order to see his surroundings.
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