Motorcycle Man

Velcro straps, he said a silent thank you to its inventor. He was able to do it with one hand, which was helpful since he only had one. He was born with two, but only one was left. The other was plastic and stainless steel. He checked to make sure his glass eye looked OK. It did, for once. He was ready to go out and perform.

Duke was billed as “The Duke of Excitement.” Pretty clever. Not as good as Evel Knevel, but at least the Duke didn’t have as many broken bones as Evel had, the amputations gave Evel the title. The Duke didn’t have as many bones to break as Evel Knevel. He used to, but, with the loss of a limb here and a limb there, he just didn’t have the numbers now.

Tonight the Duke would be doing his whole show. The payday was very nice here at the county fair. He’d do the usual jump-over car routine. The last car was a van. The crowd loved it. They really loved it when he hit the van. Then they roared. They wanted him to do it again, but Duke was being taken to a hospital. Duke only did that at the big shows. Then he’d try again and clear it. The fans would go nuts, which they were anyway. So did Duke. He lost his hand that way. Poor timing, that’s all.

Next, he’d do the jump through fire thing. That was a gimme. It looked difficult and brave, but it was actually easy and foolish. The Duke had never lost a limb or broken anything with that stunt. He had lost a couple of sets of eyebrows and no longer had a beard because of it. In fact, he Duke finished strapping on his artificial leg. As he tightened the no longer could grow a beard because of it. Well, it saved on shaving cream and time. Looked like the dickens though.

He’d give the crowd a couple of false starts to work them up. He’d slide his bike along the ground a time or two. He’d put on a show! You have to stay alert and not be daydreaming. That cost him the leg and a good set of leathers. Leathers are too expensive to waste.

If the crowd was responsive enough, he did a triple roll for them. He had to check and double-check the wind. Otherwise, he comes down upside down. One steel plate was enough for anyone’s lifetime, and Duke had three. He had more steel in his head than bone. One more plate, and he wouldn’t even need to wear a helmet. He’d just paint his logo on his head. Maybe get it etched on. Cool! He’d have to be careful around lightening too.

The Duke always got his money up front. He did that ever since the time he woke up in the hospital and couldn’t remember if he’d been paid or not. The promoter said he’d been paid, but Duke wasn’t sure. He wasn’t positive who he was either, but that was normal. The money was the thing. He certainly wasn’t doing motorcycle stunts for his health, now was he?

One of the Duke’s wives, probably number three, the witch with the big mouth and butt to match, once called him, “The walking death wish.” What she didn’t realize was that she was right, but he wasn’t wishing for his death. He liked number two the best. She left because she didn’t want to ‘be the one to scrape him into a plastic bag for mulching the tree lawn. Yea, number two, what was her name? She was the best. Great sense of humor, old whatshername or number. Great gal.

Duke limped over to his bike. He ought to take some money and get a lighter foot made. Maybe that high impact plastic stuff. High impact would always be a good thing for him to have since it was something he did a little too often. The crowd roared as he was introduced. They hollered and screamed. They yelled out and threw things. You’d think this was a rasslin’ match or a hockey game. The crowd was ready to rock. The crowd wanted to see the Duke do the rolling. The crowd was up! The crowd wanted to see blood, preferably the Duke’s.

The Duke looked down the lane at the parked cars and the one van. It seemed like a long way to jump. I wonder if the promoter added a couple of cars to the lineup. Duke couldn’t see well enough to count them because of having only one eye. Maybe the Duke was just getting too old for this crap. Now, there’s a thought. Maybe he should look up number two and see if the spark was still there. He could retire. Maybe buy a chicken farm or something like that. Something safe and sensible. Nah, being cheered on by a bunch of chickens for tossing feed around wasn’t going to replace the roar of the crowd. The Duke knew in that instant that he’d do this until he died. Probably why he died, for that matter.

The Duke roared down the lane and went up the ramp. He and the bike flew through the air like a bird. The thing is, a bird is supposed to fly through the air. A man on a motorcycle isn’t. Tonight, the Duke and the motorcycle both flew through the air but not together.

The Duke opened his eyes—well, his eye and heard the crowd screaming. They yelled out for more, but they weren’t going to get more. The Duke was finished for the night. He was told to lie still until the ambulance got there. He was told that the bleeding was under control and the leg only looked a little broken. Duke hoped it was his artificial one.

The promoter bent down to the Duke with a look of deep concern on his face. The Duke was touched. The promoter shook his head and said, “Now, remember, boy, I already paid you.”