Easy Riders
Disclaimer: They belong to Alliance Atlantis and the Pauls.


I will never ever forget this sight so long as I live.  The perfect Mountie poster boy hanging on to a leather clad biker for dear life with a Harley thrumming between his knees.  One red arm is wrapped around the biker's waist like a steel cable.  The other hand is clutching the Stetson between them so he won't lose it.  I almost can't wait to get where we're going because I know there is no way in hell even the perfect Mountie can keep every hair in place after wearing a motorcycle helmet.

Meanwhile, I'm holding on to my own biker.  He said his name is Dwayne and he's a good ol' boy if ever I met one.  A rebel flag flutters from an antenna behind me, and unlike his leather clad buddies, Dwayne is wearing denim all over.  He even has spurs on his boots for fuck's sake.  I'm just glad Dief's not with us on this little adventure.  Fraser'd freak out if one of these guys gave the wolf a ride.  He'd go into speech mode about how unsafe it is for hours, I'm sure.  Hell, I'm still surprised he didn't give me the speech before we climbed on the hogs.

"Expediency, Ray," he'd said.  So, I suppose he could read the surprise on my face clear enough.  There was no way we'd catch Dillon James without a ride and the Hog Dogz were the closest means of transport.  Or at least that's what Frase told me.

I haven't ridden a motorcycle since that chase with the bounty hunter chick.  I'd forgotten how good it feels.  Closest thing to flying under your own power.  The wind whips at you and the scenery just streams past.  I wonder if Fraser likes it.  I bet it's a lot like being on a dogsled. Well, without all the yipping and the ice and stuff.  Okay, so maybe it's nothing like being on a dogsled.  What the fuck do I know about that Canadian stuff anyway?  I'll have to remember to ask Fraser about it later.

I try not to laugh at him, but I can't help myself.  For once, Fraser isn't doing the rigid posture thing.  He has to hunch over to both hold on to the biker, whose name I didn't catch, and keep the hat from getting away from him.  Of course, that's the moment he chooses to look over at me.  I must look like a loon hanging on to Dwayne's shoulders wearing one of those little Nazi style helmets, complete with the gold arrow top knot, laughing my head off.  I can't see his mouth because he's wearing a full helmet but I think I see a smile in his eyes behind the visor.

Wildly dangerous ways all right, but for once I'm not complaining.  I'm never going to forget this.  I can take this little memory out and giggle over it whenever Fraser gets on my last nerve.  Maybe the RCMP has a motorcycle division to keep up with the times.  I'll have to ask when this is all over.  For now, I just yell into Dwayne's ear.

"Faster!"


Back