The window was down and the music was extra loud to make up for it. I had my hair back, but little wisps of it were flying around my face in the 55 mph wind. There were a lot of cars on the road, but I was in a sort of empty space between two clusters of them. My left leg was up in my lap and my elbow was resting on the windowsill. For once, I was going the speed limit. I had no place to go in any hurry, and I didn't really want to go home.

Cars pulled onto the highway and cars pulled off of it. I bit my thumbnail and stared at the stormy clouds. It was raining off and on. I was more or less hoping it would rain while my window was down so I could get shot by a few drops of it. They stung and were cold and then trickled down your fingers.

Woosh. Woosh. Honk. Woosh. The cars sped by. I stretched my hand out towards the ones going the opposite direction. Sometimes on two-lane roads, I'd try to see if I could touch them. It would be really stupid if I ever did, they might take my fingers off, but it was fun to imagine sometimes.

It was a lazy day. Hot - kinda. The air was wet and it smelled wet and the concrete was wet. Wet and hot. I was content. I had just come back from the park, where I laid on a brick wall and stared up at the sky and listened to thousands of millions of leaves snuggling against each other when the wind blew. A long, drawn-out thought kept repeating itself in my head when I heard the sound. "It sounds like the ocean. It sounds like the ocean. This is Kansas' ocean. It sounds like the ocean."

Of course, then a very large fly buzzed in my ear and I no longer wanted to sit outside. Once you become aware there are bugs around you, you can't forget that they might crawl on you at any moment. I had gone to my car, turned it on, hung my feet out the window, and read a comic book. I cried because the little girl in the comic painted a picture and gave it to an old man who had killed his baby and said "This is the last picture I paint as myself."

I wasn't thinking of any of this while I was driving. I wasn't thinking of anything, actually. I was fighting with my hair to keep it out of my mouth and was singing along to the music without thinking about it. The highway had opened up and two lanes had become three. A fourth lane was coming up to join us, since we were passing over another highway, and cars needed to get on.

I was in the far right lane, because I was used to flooring it and going seventy just about everywhere. I was going sixty something, which was still in the speed limit, actually. When they added another lane, they tacked a few more miles onto the limit. Don't know why, the road was just the same. Bigger, but it didn't curve or have stop lights or anything.

I didn't think about any of this, though. I wasn't thinking about anything.

The fourth lane dissapeared and the cars adjusted themselves, settling in for a long ride. Some jerk who thought he was too cool to hang around behind me had just rocketted past and was off to piss off more drivers. I didn't care. His bad mood was wasted on me. I was content.

I saw another fourth lane showing up. We weren't passing a highway this time, just a busy street. I started to hear the loud, angry whirring noise of a motorcycle sifting in through my windows. I glanced over and saw him.

Him.

He had a dark red shirt on, billowing against his body and making him look fatter than he was. His helmet was yellow, and he had kahki pants on. He looked over at me, or at least I thought he did. He turned his left blinker on and pointed at the space in front of me. In barely half a second, he crossed all four lanes of traffic and settled in front of my car.

I couldn't breathe. I stared at his back, my mouth open, my eyes not blinking. The wisps of hair flying around my face stuck in my mouth and I didn't care. I watched him.

Motorcycles had always fascinated me. They always seemed devillishly romantic. I think it's how you have to hold onto the guy if you're riding with him. Actually, in all honesty, I think that motorcycles are the modern horses. Girls always wanted guys with white horses to come sweep them off their feet. I think the modern version of that is a guy on a motorcycle who can come carry you away.

The motorcyclist in front of me wasn't doing anything exciting, just driving straight. He was following behind a red truck, and I was following behind him. I kept close enough to him so that nobody could cut in between us, and far enough away so he didn't get nervous. I wanted him to stay in font of me so I could watch him.

He kept glancing around him. I guess it's because he didn't really have mirrors like a car does. In a car, you just glance up and you can see behind you. There's no rearview mirror on a motorcycle. He kept looking at the other lanes, and I started to worry he wanted to pass the red truck and get away from me. He didn't, though. He stayed for a few minutes.

More cars got on via another fourth lane. He was cornered in by a sporty silver car, and would have to stay in front of me. I smiled.

I was perfectly content to stare at him and watchin him glance around. I didn't want anything more, but he gave me more.

He turned around and looked at me.

Well, turned around isn't such a good word. You can't turn around on a motorcycle and not crash. He just looked over his shoulder. I mean really looked. No little glances. His entire neck craned around and there was no doubt he was looking directly at my car. Whether or not he saw me, I have no idea.

My heart sped up and my breath was gone again. I imagined he was looking directly at me, and was doing it on purpose. I saw him look over at the silver car and the red truck. The two were so close that they were almost beside each other. The motorcyclist cast another glance back at me. He had to have been looking at me. On purpose. He couldn't just be seeing my car. Why would he be looking at my car - twice - so intently? My blood was running hot and my breathing was back, but quicker.

He looked at the space in between the truck and the silver car. I knew he was asking for my permission. That's why he looked back twice. He was showing off for me, and he wanted me to see. I whispered, eyes in a rapture, fixed on him. "Do it."

The angry whirring of his bike got louder as he sped into the tiny space between the two vehicles. The silver car honked at him, and I started laughing. "Yes!" I shouted, "Go for it!"

He sped up and flung himself around the red truck. I stamped on the gas pedal, no longer following the speed limit. I knew I couldn't keep that up anyway. I zipped over into the slow lane and passed the silver car, following the motorcyclist as he dashed in between traffic. Fits of giggles broke out of me and my heart was running faster than my car. The wind from the window tore my wisps of hair out of my mouth and completely drowned out the music. I had to have been going eighty, at least.

Three cars were pacing each other, creating a moving road block. The motorcycle was stuck behind them, and I caught up to him. He was in the middle lane, and I took my place in the faster left lane. I looked over at him, and he looked over at me. I couldn't see his face. I knew he had to be smiling. He took off between the cars, zipping onto the yellow lines and causing them to honk at him. As he sped off into the distance, I thought I saw him look over his shoulder at me again. My heart skipped a beat and I sighed softly to myself.

I had lost him. I wasn't sad, I was still content. I had had an adventure. I had almost had him. I smiled.

I knew, that if he had just waved his arm, and ushered me to the side of the road. If he had called for me to pull over, I would have. I could've seen his face, and known his name. I smiled.

I would see him again someday.

The End.

---

This is a true story. He did point and cross over an entire highway. I did stop breathing. He did look back at me. He did zoom off between the cars. I did chase him. But he was faster than me and I never did catch up. After the "Yes! Go for it!" in the story, it's all made up. But everything before that was true.

And yes, I would have pulled over if he had asked me to. That would have been amazing.