A Short Story

The Girl on the Motorcycle


A dramatization of real events... or something like that

I had seen her so many times, riding her motorcycle to the Art building early in the morning every week. Seeing her became an expectation and I found myself wondering who this girl is. I had never searched for her, but she stood out whenever I was in the same place she was. And I couldn't help putting pieces of information together. It's just how I work. It comes with being an artist. I absorb everything I can and put all of the information given to me - intentionally or not - together.

The first time I had recognized her off of her bike was when I was walking to my class early in the morning and I realized that I knew the vest that she was wearing. Not very many people wear protective vests while riding a motorcycle, so it wasn't hard to put the pieces together. She had short hair styled in a subtle faux-hawk. Not surprising, given her choice of dress and the fact that I had never seen her hair peeking out of her helmet.

I never saw her toting the too recognizable drawing or painting pad, so that was out. She never carried ceramic or sculpture materials, either. She had to be either a teacher, or a digital arts student. Her association with other students made me assume fellow student, but not a new one. She was either upper level or in the master's program. The way she dressed and held herself was much like an artist, but there was something about her that told me that she was studying one of the graphic arts available. It was in her helmet and her vest. She was clearly drawn to the computer look. Not the bike, that doesn't leave much to tell me, because I don't know how or why she rides that particular bike.

She would never ride above the speed limit and her bike didn't have one of those obnoxiously loud mufflers like most bikes do. These two things told me that she either cares about her safety or she respects the law. Most likely both, knowing that the law is there to protect her, so she's going to follow it. This also gives a peek into her personality. She clearly likes riding a bike, so she likes the freedom, thrill and fun that comes with that, but she also knows the risks of riding along a bunch of mindless drivers that don't know how to drive around a bike. Fun, yes, but respectful, too.

Then I saw her walking. Not at school, but in my neighborhood. The first time it was just after sunset, she was holding hands with some man who was clearly important to her. They were walking a dog that looked like a beagle mix. Because she was with someone else, I couldn't make the assumption that she lived in the same neighborhood as me until I saw her again, walking the same dog, alone. She didn't even have it on a leash that time, but it stayed close to her. She loved her dog enough for it to stay close to her, but she didn't let it do whatever it wanted. She was alpha. There was no question about that.

I often found myself slightly unsettled by how much I knew about her without even trying. I've never said a single word to her. How could someone be so unguarded about who they are that some stranger could just pick up who she was without even trying? She either doesn't know it, or she just doesn't care. From what I know about her - limited assumptions, really - she probably just doesn't care. That's what drew my attention to her in the first place.

Confidence.

Her posture says that she's ready to take on the world if she has to, but she doesn't want to. Her subtle attention to detail shows that she cares just enough to get by in the world, but nothing more than that. She has personality and she has the respect of a stranger.

I doubt that I am the only one.