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Journey into Disaster
I proudly present chapter
3.19. Horror ride
Marielou and Jonathan have a very dangerous experience with the German Frank.
Marielou clings to Frank’s hips and she presses her right cheek tightly against Frank’s back. He is leaning forward and steering the rattling decrepit motorcycle. She smells the cold smoke of the chain smoker on Frank’s denim vest. Her long hair is blowing wildly in the wind, and she is annoyed not to have tied her hair in a braid before setting off. Jonathan, who is sitting behind Marielou, holds with his right hand on to the bottom of the empty propane cylinder. With his left hand he is constantly busy wiping Marielou’s hair from his eyes and face. The propane gas cylinder that Frank has tied with ropes behind Jonathan on the wobbly frame presses Jonathan painfully in the back. Now, to make matters worse, he gets cigarette smoke from Frank’s “More” in his left eye. The engine roars, the gearbox cracks, the frame and shock absorbers of the Yamaha STX groan. They are shaken vigorously on the first two unpaved kilometers out of the village. The most important part of the motorcycle is the horn, which Frank operates continuously. Children, dogs, cats and chickens jump aside in fear. Nevertheless, Marielou and Jonathan are pushed back on the worn, smooth synthetic leather seat when accelerating and then pushed forward again when braking. And there are many obstacles like pedestrians, puddles, potholes and branches. Frank has no problems. He holds on to the wide handlebars. Jonathan has Marielou before him, a graceful young woman with a pleasantly fragrant body.
On the so-called highway — the road has only two lanes and unpaved hard shoulders — Frank accelerates so much the engine can. The muffler has holes like a kitchen strainer and the noise is deafening. Now they crawling behind a completely overloaded wooden truck for about three minutes. The trunks are at least one and a half to two meters thick.
Frank curses, loses patience and shifts down a gear. The gearbox cracks, the 125 cubic centimeter engine howls. There is blue smoke from the exhaust and the rust holes. Frank turns the gas to the stop, and the motorcycle is already beside the truck. They are just at the height of the trailer hitch of the articulated lorry when the huge front of a yellow intercity bus suddenly appears in front of the motorcycle riders. Marielou sees the lights up of the headlights and hears the bus horn. Frank yells “Shit!” Marielou already recognizes the white in the wide-open eyes of the panicked bus driver and the passengers in the first rows of seats. Marielou sends a quick prayer to heaven, Jonathan hysterically yells something vague behind her. The motorcycle engine howls again, the tires of the bus and the semi-trailer are smoking blue from braking and throwing up a lot of dust. It smells like burnt rubber and Marielou closes her eyes: “I’m too young to die. Lord help me!” One swerves to the right, and they drive in front of the semi-trailer. The yellow bus races past them on their left, honking loudly. The wind from the huge bus grabs the old machine with the three people fighting for their lives and shakes them wildly. Frank is busy not to lose control.
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