Motorcycle Stories Novels & Stories

My breath caught in my throat, fear threatening to choke me. I wanted them to stop. I hated motorcycles. Something about them scared me. Maybe it was the noise, maybe it was that I liked some steel between me and a certain death, maybe it was the accident that put my cousin James in the hospital for three weeks. In any case, to me, they were just glorified death traps. Dean laughed as Tony pulled out of the circle-chase and over to where Kimberly stood, her hands on her face in total amazement at their daredevil antics. The manly testosterone effects of the bikes were certainly working on her and Jenny.

[Fingerprint recognition successful. Zeke was rooted to the spot, looking at the motorcycle that had been fired up as the front of the machine rose, the handlebars popped out, the saddle emerged, and the wheels split into compound wheels. The machine seemed to come alive, as a white streamers-like glow enveloped the body as if an angry lion woke up in the sunlight. It felt violent and cool but also difficult to control. "This bike can reach a top speed of two hundred miles per hour. Do you really want to try it?" Nicole asked as she looked at Zeke's stunned expression.

“Fight things. Music. Oh! Motorcycles. Let’s race motorcycles!” “I remember something about motorcycles. What was it?” Ray searched his brain, but it was all a foggy haze. “Oh, we can’t. Drinking and driving. That’s bad.” “Doesn’t count with flying motorcycles and in the middle of nowhere. We can’t hurt people, and if we fall off, we just land on grass, so we’re covered.” “Logical.” That was how the two of them ended up borrowing some bikes from Ray old clan and having them delivered out to the gang abandoned school grounds outside the city. There was a track there that was perfect for racing.

he shouted from the motorcycle. The old motorcycle sped back onto the cobblestone road. Mr. Frank was still laughing heartily, feeling satisfied that he had humiliated the Alexander Family. However, not far from the warehouse, a strange sound began to be heard from the motorcycle engine. "Josh, what's wrong with this motorcycle?" Mr. Frank asked, starting to get annoyed. "It seems like there's a problem, sir," Josh replied, slowing down the motorcycle. Not long after, the engine died completely, and the motorcycle stopped in the middle of the road.

Ningsih felt familiar with that motorbike. "Let’s go fast!" Sugeng rode the motorcycle at super speed. "By the way, where did you get this motorcycle?" Ningsih asked in the midst of the high-speed ride. "Uh, this... it's Markonah's motorcycle. Hehe." Suddenly... Dhoodododododododot ... The motorcycle they were riding on broke down in the middle of the road. In Sugeng's mind, Markonah's words echoed. "Don’t speed, or it will break down!"

My breath caught in my throat, fear threatening to choke me. I wanted them to stop. I hated motorcycles. Something about them scared me. Maybe it was the noise, maybe it was that I liked some steel between me and a certain death, maybe it was the accident that put my cousin James in the hospital for three weeks. In any case, to me, they were just glorified death traps. Dean laughed as Tony pulled out of the circle-chase and over to where Kimberly stood, her hands on her face in total amazement at their daredevil antics. The manly testosterone effects of the bikes were certainly working on her and Jenny.

She asked me how we are going to support ourselves, I replied that she didn't have to worry about it. She was silent, she had fallen asleep. Her body leaned against my back. For a moment, I fell asleep too. I accelerate unintentionally, the bike turns to the side. She woke up. Me too, support my foot on the ground and push the bike. It gets straight again. I can feel her heart on my back, mine seems to vibrate my entire body. I would not fall asleep again. The rest of the trip is silent. At about half past four in the morning some cars started to join us on the highway. Fatigue starts to take over me again. She asked if I wanted to change, I asked her if she had already driven a motorcycle.

“You’re walking into the Annual Meeting with wolves who smell blood. If you’re going to survive biker politics, you need more than sharp instincts.” “I can ride,” she said quickly. “You’ve seen me.” “I’ve seen you ride,” I corrected. “I haven’t seen you command.” Her brows furrowed. “Hmmm, there’s a difference?” “Obviously,” I replied sounding almost sarcastic. “In this vast world of ours, motorcycles aren’t transportation. They’re statements. The way you ride tells everyone exactly who you are, either; weak, reckless, or untouchable.” She crossed her arms. “And you think I look weak?”

It makes for a very entertaining dynamic I can tell you that. I forgot about mom and her unexplained 'visit' a few hours later as I went for one of my midnight rides. There's nothing like the feel of a powerful bike between one's thighs as you race through the night. And for that reason I think the motorcycle is one of the bleeders' best inventions. It's almost as freeing as flying high above the trees and feeling the wind against one's skin. And it scares humans less that's for sure. They're a timid bunch these bleeders, afraid of everything including their own shadow.

If Luca notices how red I am, he doesn't rub it in. "Well, if you want to learn more about Rafe, you've come to the right place," he says. "Have I got some stories for you. Did he tell you about the time he got his first motorcycle?" "Oh, boy," Ashlyn says. "Here we go." "What happened?" I say, relaxing a little.