I am not a biker chick! First off, my breasts do not sag! Okay, bad joke. I know, but it’s been my go-to line when some idiot makes a crack about me and my Harlie! Yes, I spell it with an ‘ie’, get over it. This time of year, I love riding my Sportster XLH833. No, it’s not freaking pink! Sure, I gave it a girlie name, but I am not riding a pink Sportster! The hills, the sun, the wind, and the winding roads just scream ‘freedom’ for me. I don’t do it often enough, but today just looked perfect!

Yes, I am a girl who likes motorcycles, but I was never interested in riding pillion! I do wear leathers, mainly because I have had to lay it down before due to the stupidity of people who got their driver’s license from the bottom of a cereal box. Trust me, leather is easier to replace than my skin! Sure Harlie needed work after it, but at least we both weren’t in the body shop!

Because of Harlie and my leathers, I have been accused of being a member of a biker gang that sometimes terrorizes my part of the state. I have no colors on my leathers, but some people can’t tell the difference. Not even the dark pink scarf I love to have streaming behind me gives them a clue.

So, this Saturday I headed out. The rumble of the engine might have woken up a few people, but it’s not like I do this all that often. I wanted to get going before it got too hot. Black leather looks good on me, but it can get warm quick. I planned a couple of hundred-mile ride through some foothills in upstate NY and just simply enjoy the day. I packed a lunch and some drinks in my panniers, donned my helmet, and headed out. Yes, I wear a freaking helmet! I look at it simply, if you have nothing to protect, go without!

It was a perfect day! I couldn’t have asked for a better one as the odometer spun with the miles under my tires. Harlie was behaving herself as well, I felt like I could ride forever! The road was winding nicely and gradually rose in elevation. The views started getting really nice on this late Spring day. I was flying!

The only discordant note was some rich asshole driving a Porsche blasting by me going way too fast for the road. Even over my engine and the helmet, I could hear his tires squealing as he passed me on a curve of all places. I didn’t flip him off, as I would normally do simply because I was in too good a mood.

About halfway into my planned route, there was an overlook and rest stop I decided was the perfect place to have lunch and stretch. I sat on the edge of a small rock wall looking out over a wooded valley. It would have been perfect too if Porsche-guy hadn’t gotten there before me. I didn’t notice him right away, he was parked on one side of the parking lot, next to an SUV, so I didn’t see him. I was closer to the overlook section rather than near the restrooms.

I got off Harlie, shook out my helmet hair, hung my jacket on the grips, and grabbed lunch. I sat down to enjoy the view. It lasted about fifteen minutes until I heard Porsche guy arguing with who I guess was his girlfriend. The argument left the confines of their little car. I heard a door slam and glanced over, and I saw the two of them yelling at each other over the roof of the car. I have no idea what they were fighting about as I did my best to ignore them. I refused to let them wreck my day!

After a while, I heard the Porsche’s engine start-up and leave the parking area in a shower of gravel as the idiot applied too much power. Testosterone is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands! I liked the fact that peace reigned, and I even heard the SUV leave. I had the overlook to myself! Things were looking up. I sat there admiring the valley. There was a small lake off to one side and even at this distance, I could see boats enjoying the day as well.

I policed up my stuff, never one to leave trash around. As I stashed it in my pannier, I saw I wasn’t as alone as I thought, a girl was sitting on one of the picnic tables under the shelter. She was sitting there fiddling with her phone. I almost wanted to laugh. I’d been up here plenty of times and unless she had a satellite phone, there was no service for miles around.

We were up in some hills on what started as a logging road a long time ago. It did have a state number to it, but she wasn’t going to get cell service until she got closer to the next town, at least six or seven miles away. I couldn’t just leave her sitting there, could I? She certainly wasn’t dressed for a motorcycle ride, that’s for damn sure. She was in a cute little dress that was tight across her bum. It was pretty short as well, and those heels were totally impractical. I couldn’t hear her, but her movements said she finally figured out she wasn’t going to call anyone.

“Hey!” I yelled over to her as I walked over. I hadn’t put my jacket back on, so it was pretty obvious I wasn’t some biker dude. “You okay?” I know, not the brightest thing to say because being left at a rest stop off a low traffic location with no cell service is not the thing you think of as ‘okay’. She wasn’t crying, which is a good thing! I hate criers and screamers, well unless they are screaming my name or ‘Oh God!’ in the right context.

“Fuck no! This asshole guy took me for a ride in his hot car and when I objected to him trying to stick his arm up my pussy, he got pissy. Fucker told me he’d be back soon to see if I would be more...”

“I get it! Asshole, definitely an asshole. I assume you don’t want to be here if the moron comes back?”

She looked over at my bike. It was one of the smaller Sportsters but can easily hold two people. The negative was my spare helmet was sitting in my garage and her dress and shoes were not suited to riding. But all things can be dealt with.

“Yea, I would love to be elsewhere, but...” She looked down at herself. “I’m not exactly dressed for riding on a bike?”

“First off, this is Harlie, and she’s a motorcycle, not a bike. Second, we’ll put your shoes in my bags and you’ll have to ride the pegs barefoot. As for the dress, if we tuck my jacket exactly right, I think we can avoid flashing the other drivers.” As I said that I realized she was pretty freaking cute, no wonder the Porsche moron picked her up.

She smiled, “Well if you can give me a ride to where I can use my phone, I would be really grateful.”

I was tempted to ask just how grateful, but I wasn’t about to play those games. It would make me sound more like Porsche-guy than I would ever want to. “I think we can handle that!”

It took a few minutes to get her settled. I put my helmet on her, she objected at first but I was insistent. I sat on the bottom edge of my jacket and we used the rest to cover her lap and the top of her thighs. It would at least keep from blowing sixty-plus MPH air up it. I wasn’t going to do anything foolish and hoped the other drivers would do the same. Laying down the bike with her would leave a shitload of skin on the asphalt. I climbed on and she pressed against my back with her arms around me. She felt pretty fucking good there. If it wasn’t for the situation, she would be welcome on Harlie any day! Of course, she would be dressed more for riding!