Chapter Text
Johnny sat on the metal bottom of the open back part of the slow moving pick up truck, watching the pebbles and stones on the road move past his feet. The thought that he would have left these guys by now had been on his mind for the last two hours. He turned to look into the vehicle, his hair sticking to his face from sweat. The guy and chick who picked him up earlier proceeded to keep toking it in their vehicle, windows rolled all the way down in order to dispel the radiating heat that was trapped inside. It was clear that when they got into town the smell and let alone their clothes would give away to any cops that they had drugs on them. He wasn’t about to be incriminated along with these strangers, he already had enough run ins with the law. He would just walk the rest of the way into town.
The opportunity to jump off the back and continue into town by foot was presenting itself but walking along the road was something he had long since grown weary of. It couldn’t be helped. He put his backpack on and jumped off into the thick summer foliage along the side of the road. No matter how careful he had attempted to be, he fell and skinned his knee along with his hands which he cursed, stood up, and took a last look at the bumper sticker on the truck as it rolled along into the distance. It read “It’s bad luck to be superstitious”.
Luck was definitely something Johnny did believe in, you either had it or you didn’t. He sucked at his scuffed up hand out of a desperate attempt to clean it. Things would have been better if he had packed some bandages before he had left but only now after several months of hitch hiking had he learned what he would really need. At least the scratches were minor, it was irritating, but the least of his problems. Shade from the trees along both sides of the gravel road cast shadows on the tall thin grass which rattled from a gentle wind, something which Johnny didn’t notice for his concentration was elsewhere. Johnny focused on putting one foot in front of the other which was harder said than done. He hadn't been able to walk like this at all for the last year but once he was able to walk in the slightest without his crutches he decided to run away from home. He couldn’t keep living with his father, it wasn’t an option.
He reflected on it; at his age he couldn’t call it running away and he had stopped seeing it as his home years ago. Runaway must be some glorified title he had given himself for the situation he chose to get into. He didn’t have anywhere he could go and no one would be able to help him if he ran into trouble, which is why he decided to bring one of his dad’s pistols with him, just in case he had to protect himself. Which state was he even in by now? He had gotten miles away from Kentucky without any destination in mind at all.
Johnny continued to sweat and the queens anne’s lace rocked delicately back and forth, enjoying the comfort of a warm June breeze. There was a faint sputtering noise which grew progressively louder as a motorcyclist came from behind. Johnny could smell the gas burning from his neon green motorcycle as it slowed down to approach him. His face was distinctive; he had shaved his strong jawline in the most peculiar pattern and wore the most ridiculous aviator goggles. Strands of his long blond hair were dangling out of his helmet as he cocked his head and put his foot down in order to remain stationary on the bike.
“You wouldn’t need a lift would you buddy?”
Johnny was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of gold from his teeth. This guy had a strange aura about him.
.
“I think I’ll be fine”
Johnny began to press forward.
“I was told there was a town up ahead.”
The guy made an unimpressed expression from underneath his clunky beige aviator goggles.
“Not for another couple of miles. No offense, but it looks like you could use some help getting there, from the way you were walking and all.”
He blushed at how transparent his need for assistance was and made a frown. He walked toward the bike.
“I thought I was much closer…”
The stranger got off his motorcycle to help Johnny get on.
“Well, it won’t be too much longer now that you’re with me!”
And they sped off.
Johnny held on to the strangers waist for stability as they drove down the winding gravel road, wind in his hair, with a strange feeling of liberation. He had never been on a motorcycle before and traveling fast without the confinements of doors or floor boards hit differently. It reminded him of when he used to ride horses growing up and suddenly, right there,he made the decision he too would have a motorcycle someday. He held on tighter to the stanger’s tan leather jacket and closed his eyes as the motorcyclist sped up and the wind became abrasive. Johnny felt a mix of adrenaline at the thrill of riding a motorcycle for the first time and oddly enough the intimacy and trust of holding on to a stranger for safety.
The sleepy village they arrived in seemed tucked away from the hustle and bustle of major cities much like many of the small towns that proceeded before heading into the mountains. The pink evening glow developed into violet as the man idled his motorcycle at a nameless bar with several iridescent glowing signs outside it’s windows. Other motorcycles were parked out front and from the sound of it the place was packed.
“I’m not sure where you wanted to be dropped off at but I figured I could use a drink. If you want to join I’ll pay for yours”
Johnny took up the offer and Gyro assisted him in getting off of the bike. Before they went in he watched as the stranger took off his goggles and helmet and left them on his motorcycle. He put the sweaty purple bandana that he had been using to keep his long honey blond hair in his helmet around his wrist and motioned Johnny to follow him into the bar. It smelled like cigarettes inside which Johnny wrinkled his nose to before letting the irritation go. The man who picked him up seemed to know some of the bikers since he waved with a sense of familiarity to them as they managed to find two seats at the bar to sit at.
“What’s your name, friend?”
The stranger turned his head to face him proudly smiling with tacky gold plated teeth.
“...Johnny.”
The man waved with gusto at the bartender and caught his attention. He leaned over towards the bartender in order for him to hear him over the voices of the other patrons.
“Could you get me and my friend, Johnny, a beer please? Whichever one he wants.”
The bartender looked at Johnny and asked for his ID which he pulled out of his wallet and gave to the rough man.
“Looks like you are just able to drink. What are you having?” Johnny made his choice and the stranger looked at him curiously.
“So you are 19? I wouldn’t have guessed, I thought you were older than that.”
Johnny gave an annoyed glance towards the biker.
“Sorry to disappoint you. What was your name?
The stranger grinned again, exposing the small embossed letters on his teeth.
“Gyro, Gyro Zeppeli.”
Johnny gave an amused smile. What is with this guy? Did he really have his name on his teeth?
“Zeppeli…. You know that sounds a lot like Zepplin… are you a fan or something?”
The bar tender arrived with two beers and placed them on the bar for them while Gyro shook his head and attempted to explain himself.
“Listen, I’ve been a Zeppeli longer than that band has been together. That’s just a happy coincidence that they have a similar name to my own, lucky for them! ”
Johnny cracked a sideways smile when he took his bottle all the while eyeing the names of those who have passed by there which were carved into the wooden countertop.
“I don’t know if I believe you, recently I keep meeting people with names like ‘cool breeze’ or ‘ace’. You could tell me if you gave yourself that name, it’s alright.”
Gyro nodded in acknowledgement
“I know just the type of person you are talking about. Hippies… you don’t strike me as far from a beatnix yourself though.”
Johnny took a swig from his drink before responding.
“Why is that…”
His friend chuckled peculiarly.
“Oooooo, I don’t know….. There is nothing bohemian about having feather earrings I guess.”
Johnny kept sipping at his bottle which was half way done already. He felt as if he could open up more to Gyro than he was able to with the other passing nobodies he had met along his journey.
“You noticed… look, I’m not into any scenes…I’m not really a part of anything...”
This piqued Gyro’s interest.
“Say, Johnny… when is your birthday?”
Johnny looked at him questioningly.
“...February 27.”
Gyro slammed his hand onto the counter.
“A Pisces! I wouldn’t have guessed that you seem too…. Firey for a pisces.”
Johnny had no idea what that meant. He didn’t know anything about astrology other than it was trendy and unwelcome in a christian household.
“Too firey?”
“You see Johnny, when someone is born the stars align in a certain way to determine your fate… I’m a Gemini! ”
Johnny smirked.
“You’re a hippie.”
Gyro playfully acted revolted.
“No I am not! You can’t go around accusing other people of being hippies, that just isn’t right.”
It occured to Johnny that Gyro had only drank about half of his drink and he had already finished his. Well whatever. He looked around at all the other bikers in the crowded room.
“So do you know anyone here? Are any of these your biker friends?”
Gyro scanned the room for a second before giving up and sighing.
“Not really any friends, just other people I have met on the road since I began traveling.”
The two of them glared for a moment at some drunken biker who decided to play the same song on the jukebox again before carrying on.
“I wouldn’t say I’m exactly in the biking scene.” He looked back at Johnny.
“As much as I love motorcycles, I’m not in it for companionship.”
He then smiled confidently.
“I’m in it for a different reason.”
This was curious to Johnny. How many reasons could there be to become a biker? Gyro called over to the bartender to pay his tab.
“I hope I’ll get to see you around Johnny. Judging by your backpack, you are headed somewhere else after this right?”
It occurred to him that Gyro would be leaving soon although for the first time in a long while Johnny wanted another person to stay. He tried not to show his disappointment.
“...Yeah…”
A contemplative face was made as he looked at Johnny who was slightly beginning to break the nonchalance facade.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been hitch hiking.”
Johnny’s gaze seemed to grow distant as he concentrated at the same place he had been staring at ever since Gyro said he was leaving.
“Three months…”
There was a pause. Gyro leaned in close towards him so he could speak more candidly.
“...and where are you trying to go?”
He had made up a dozen lies as to where he was heading in the past. To his grandmothers house in Georgia, to a concert in San Fran, it didn’t matter where he went as long as he was out of Kentucky, and no one had to know he had no aim in mind, but in a moment of vulnerability he let his intended destination slip.
“...I don’t know…”
Gyro looked around the bar as unassumingly as possible. He spoke in a soft voice which was barely audible over the ruckus in the bar.
“Its going to be hard… getting to nowhere when you can hardly walk… but you do what you can, and you do what you have to.”
He paid the bartender as he spoke.
“There sure are a lot of drunk people in this bar tonight!”
The bartender customarily agreed before going back to serving drinks. His green eyes shot back to look at Johnny.
“I bet at least one of these guys has left their keys somewhere. If you weren’t scared of a few bikers, maybe you could get to your nowhere fast enough… So long Johnny!”
The tall biker waved a final good bye behind him as he made his way out of the building leaving Johnny alone sitting in a room filled with smoke and noisy commotion. Johnny was alone again. He sat there and watched the strangers laugh and yell at each other. They wouldn’t realize Johnny had taken one of their bikes until he was miles away. He sat there wondering what he had to lose before abruptly jumping off the bar stool to head outside. In the distance he could spot Gyro traveling down the road and panic shot through him. Of course Gyro didn’t plan to wait on him, he was headed towards an unbeknownst location and if he didn’t act fast, he probably would lose him for good.
Johnny nervously searched the rows of bikes before spotting one with its keys still left in the ignition. It was bubble gum pink and easily identifiable but under the time sensitive constraints of the situation, he didn’t care. What mattered is staying on Gyro’s trail. He clumsily got on to the bike which was still warm from the heat of the day and revved the engine. What was he doing. This would probably get him into another confrontation with the police which he hated to think about. No, it was probably other bikers he’d have to explain himself to if he ever got caught. He managed to back out of the parked position the motorcycle was in and onto the road.
The road was clear and the summer heat made the pavement smell of a distinctive earthy and warm scent. The night sky was bright and he grasped the handles. It felt as if his determination was what intuitively guiding him through the process of driving the motorcycle. He started slowly, feeling out how to balance himself, before driving faster, then faster. He couldn’t let Gyro slip away.