OCTOBER 3, 2018

Final Ride

“Final Ride” is my entry for the 80th episode of the Word Count Podcast, based on the following image called: “Where Have Our Students Gone?”

You can also listen to me reading the story on episode 80 of R.B. Wood’s podcast.

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Jay had gained and lost weight many times over the years, but recent photos revealed he had settled into a body that suited him. That full-lipped smile never changed though. It followed him from birth until adulthood, and his baby face and jet black hair made him look a decade younger than his forty-five years.

A picture on the screen shows him straddling his Harley, looking off to the side with a grin on his face. It’s evident he had been working out. With hands tucked into his pants’ pockets, muscles bulged in all the right places. Jay was the very definition of a responsible rebel. Who else would take a picture on their motorcycle while wearing a three piece suit, and a pink handkerchief peeking out from a breast pocket?

Now, Jay’s neck presses against the stiff collar of his shirt, his jowls darker than the rest of his skin. A thin horizontal line replaces what used to be a permanent smile. Though he doesn’t appear in pain, his expression is not peaceful. He looks uncomfortable surrounded by all that ruffled, white satin. Once ruggedly handsome, his high cheekbones have flattened against closed eyes, stretching his nose wider than it should be. Even under rose-coloured lightbulbs, the cocoa palette of his face is not a great match for true skin tone.

He’s dressed in his club’s motorcycle jacket. The club name and Canadian flag are neatly displayed on one side, Jay’s name and club emblem on the opposite side. The only other part of him not covered are his hands. His swollen fingers clasp together below his chest. He wears two large rings on the left hand and one on the other. His fingers exhibit the same waxy texture as the rest of his exposed skin.

I can’t help staring. This is not Jay. Even though I did not share Jay’s love of motorcycles, I understood his passion. His club was a band of brothers involved in community outreach and charity work. They organized fundraisers to help those in need. Along with their mission to do good, they wanted to change the negative public image of motorcycle clubs. Jay loved to ride, but he was never reckless.

Reports say the driver of the school bus was new to the job, brought in before the start of the school season to avoid problems of inadequate staffing. The school board had hired one hundred new drivers at the end of August. They provided three days of training.

The twenty-two-year-old bus driver had just dropped off his last student. Instead of returning to the station house, he picked up a few of his buddies for a joy ride. It was Thursday afternoon, the beginning of a long weekend; they had decided to start the party early. The driver’s blood alcohol was twice the limit at the scene of the accident.

The headline read: “School bus driver kills motorcyclist.” The bus had plowed through a stop sign into Jay’s path. The driver was charged and temporarily stripped of his license, never to drive a school bus again.

The irony was not lost on me. A person who should have been responsible behaved recklessly, while the driver of a motorcycle, whom many might consider a reckless individual, ended up paying the ultimate price.

This fictionalized story is dedicated to my friend and former colleague, Oliver Jason Sabater.