The Black Ninja Biker

The roadway was an open expanse of tolled traffic, that ran lightly traveled and tolled across north Dallas, past businesses and shops, and subterranean. I was riding my lime green Ninja and I decided to crank it up, just for the fun of it, so I pulled back on the throttle and the familiar whine of the engine soon took over my mind, as I whizzed down the tollway. Cars appeared in front of me, much like a video game and I easily zipped by them. I wasn?t worried about the police because I could easily out run them. I wasn?t worried about dying, because at twenty-six, I had done just about anything and everything I had wanted to do at the age.The speedometer read 85mph. I pushed it to 95 and I had a lot of throttling left to go. After about a mile of thrills, I backed off to a cool 70mph. As I did, I felt a quick wiz fly past me- another cyclist that was booming down the highway and well over 100mph, I was sure. I was awestruck at first. It was another Ninja, only a black one, and that was about all I really recognized at first.My instinct was to catch up, but since we only had a few miles of open and lightly travelled roadway ahead of us, I decided it wasn?t worth the risk, although I will admit, I wanted to throttle it up. I didn?t like being shown up by another Ninja.Most of us Ninja?s know each other and we try to show a bit of respect. It is an unwritten rule. We gesture. We flash of lights. We slow up when approaching another to head nod and acknowledge each other. It?s a sign of respect. My road partner did neither.?Must be a new Ninja,? I silently thought to myself.On the horizon of the roadway ahead, I could see brake lights. My sense of safety was quickly alerted. It was the other Ninja. The rider was dressed all in black- black leather pants, a solid black jacket, a black helmet and dark-black face- shield, with dark curly black and red-highlighted hair coming out from ankara travesti under the helmet. By the size and frame of the rider, I could tell it was probably a girl. As I pulled up next to her in the same lane, she glanced over at me and rolled her left hand in a circular motion, challenging me. She gunned her engine. I shook my head back and forth, to let her know I was not interested in racing.I gunned my engine and then popped my front wheel up off the pavement, to let her know I had some one-wheel Ninja skills. One had a long distance, on- wheel record, having driven a wheelie for over a mile at one point. I was pretty confident in my stunt skills.She pulled up next to me and popped her front wheel off the pavement, a rather gutsy move and one that I thought to be a challenge, albeit a stupid one, since most Ninja?s usually give other Ninja?s a little safety margin when stunt performing. The two of us rolled down the freeway, on one wheel for quite a distance. I knew I could easily outlast her, but with the approaching heavier traffic I decided to lower my wheel and cool it. She kept on going and proudly raised her fisted and black-gloved left hand in triumph.I didn?t like being mocked. I wondered who this little pink-ass girl thought she was. I looked for her license plate. It read ?Ninja 2.? She was obviously a bike lover and someone who loved to ride and someone who probably could be a challenge. She lowered her wheel and waited for me to catch up.I pulled up next to her and raising my mirrored visor, looked in her direction. She glanced in my direction and waved, then full throttled her bike, leaving me in the dust as he weaved in and out of the cars ahead of us.I was curious. Who was this little ?Ninja? and why did I not already know her. It would take a few days for me to find out.I pulled up in front of the Ninja dealership and parked my bike. I needed travesti ankara some new accessories and decided I might do some shopping. I was looking for a new riding jacket when I saw her. The jet black curly hair with the red highlights and her small-framed body dressed all in black was a dead giveaway.I stood back and admired her from a short distance away as she fingered one of the black leather jackets hanging on the rack of many. I casually walked up to where she was looking at one jacket and I said,?You should have ?Gutsy? embroidered on it.?She looked in my direction and smiled.?Do I know you?? she asked.?Yes,? I replied. ?We met on the road the other day. ?Wheelie King?,? I replied.?I?m sorry,? she replied, ?But I don?t remember.??Ninja two,? I replied, noting that I remembered her tag.?Yes,? she replied, ?that?s me.?I reminded her of our meetup on the tollway. I could see the meet-up details weren?t really registering with her by the look on her face. Suddenly, her face lit up.?I remember you now,? she said. She took a step back and I watched as she sized me up, from my feet upwards, her eyes stopping on for a second on my crotch as she bit down on her lower lip.?I know who you are,? she said. ?Some of my friends know you. Your reputation is pretty amazing.?I chuckled.?I only ride for fun,? I said. ?Would love to have you along one day.??Christine,? she replied, introducing herself and extending her hand in my direction. I awkwardly offered a closed fist. I don?t shake hands with women. She met my fist with her own.?I?d love to learn a few tricks from you,? she said.?I?d love to teach you a few tricks,? I teasingly replied, intentionally proffering a wink.?Oh,? she replied, noticeably lowering her very cute jaw and cantering her head sideways, ?I?d be very much obliged to learn for the master.?I was awestruck and wondered how I could parlay out ankara travestiler meeting into something more meaningful. I looked at the jacket on the rack.?You take a ?small?,? I noted.?Yes, I do,? she replied, but I can?t afford it right now. I am just looking,? she replied.I grabbed the jacket and ripped off the sales tag.?You now have a new jacket,? I replied, handing it to her.?No, no, no,? she argued back.?Go put it on and let?s go for a ride,? I remarked as I turned and walked towards the register. I told the clerk I was buying the leather jacket and that my new friend was going to wear it, looking back her as she stood holding the jacket, unsure of how to respond.?Go put it on,? I repeated as I handed the clerk my credit card. ?I?m serious.?She turned and headed to a dressing room and I watched as she slipped into the small room. The clerk rang up the sale and I signed the receipt. She handed me the register receipt and I promptly wadded it up and tossed it in the trash can by the register.Christine came out of the dressing room, her older, well-worn leather jacket in one hand and wearing her new accouterment.?What do you think?? she asked, extending her arms, as she clutched on to her older jacket.?Turn around,? I said. She slowly turned around and then faced me.?Nice ass,? I said, proffering a wink.?A cheesy ass,? she replied. ?I need to lose a few pounds.??it looks fine to me,? I replied.?Thanks,? she quickly shot back.As we headed out to our bikes, she suddenly realized she didn?t have a way to ride and hold on to her older jacket. I took it from her hand and told her we could ?jacket check it? as the dealership and she could come back later and retrieve it.When I came out, she was already suited up in her black helmet and ready to ride.?Follow me,? I said.I cranked up the engine and we both sat there for a short few seconds. I pointed my bike down the street and headed out a two-lane road and into the Country. I popped a wheelie and she did the same. After about ten minutes of playing around, I steered my bike to a rather remote area of a park about forty miles north of Dallas. We were practically in the middle of nowhere.