Page 46 of Knife Volume 2

Tuesday couldn’t imagine opting for the van or RV over holding onto Knife, but she figured it was probably smart for the humans to be seat belted into a more secure vehicle, which didn’t apply to the RV, where everyone apparently just sat on the sofas and recliners, or at the kitchen seating area.

She helped load the vans and the RV, tore baked chicken into pieces for the chicken salad, helped stage the coolers that would be filled just before leaving, and then went outside and watched the men look over all the bikes. She learned there are rules about tread depth and how recent maintenance has been done on a bike, and that Bash was the final word on whether a bike was roadworthy for a trip. Also, that the box truck had spare parts, but was also where any bikes that broke down would go.

“At least twice a year,” Knife told her, “Someone is stuck in a van with their bike riding in the trailer. The Sport Glide is only a year and a half old, and I’m consistent with maintenance, so it’s fine, but the XR750 is fifty-four years old, and no matter how much maintenance I do on it — and I do a lot — things are going to break unexpectedly. I keep parts on hand for a handful of repairs that can be done roadside, and I rarely take it on long trips…” He shrugged. “Probably won’t be taking it on any trips at this point, so I should probably look at selling it and buying a racing bike I can put a passenger on.”

She counted the bikes in the line. Thirty-seven.

“We’ll have five more,” Bash told her when she reached the end, despite the fact she’d been counting silently.

She also learned one high-level member had to stay home to handle any problems that might come up. That person’s ol’lady was responsible for a whole lot of the kids, too. This weekend, Gonzo and Connie would have most of the kids at their house.

“How often do ya’ll do this?” she asked Knife after he’d fucked her nearly to sleep, and she was curled into him, completely relaxed.

“Road trips? Twice a month in the spring and fall, and at least once a month in the summer. Winter, we might plan a quickie during the week if the forecast is sunny and not stupid-cold on the coming weekend. Spring and fall, we do a day trip, and a weekend trip every month. We also do two to three longer trips a year, taking five to ten days. I should share my calendar with you, so you can see what’s planned farther out.”

His alarm went off at seven the next morning, and Tuesday got ready to go up and help with breakfast.

By nine, everyone was on their bikes, waiting for Duke to start his engine.

And then they were forty-two bikes clearing the gate one at a time. A few miles later, the sound multiplied between the downtown buildings into a chest-deep, resonant roar.

They traveled a few miles below the speed limit down McFarland Avenue into Georgia, making their way to 193, which she’d never been on before so the scenery was all new.

They were in Georgia a long time on the winding, two-lane road, and she wouldn’t have known they’d passed into Alabama if Knife hadn’t told her, “Welcome to Alabama,” on a straight-ish section of road.

She’d seen the route that morning, and she knew this meant they were close to the canyon.

Everyone pulled into a parking area, and as soon as the bikes shut off, she heard the falls.

Two prospects stayed with the bikes while everyone else traipsed down wooden walkways with railings to the falls. Tuesday understood why the decking underfoot was necessary, with so many people taking this path to the overlook, but she hated it. She wanted to hike in the woods. Not walk.

But the falls were gorgeous, and then everyone scrambled down into the gorge to get a view of them from head on, and this made her happy.

About a quarter mile after they were back on the road, she saw a sign showing hairpin S-curves with “Next 11 Miles” below it, and she smiled inside her helmet. This was going to be fun.

She’d looked at Knife’s calendar and saw a trip six weeks out to the Tail of the Dragon. She hadn’t told him yet, but she’d be following the bikes in her car for that trip. She loved driving the Dragon’s Tail.

Later, when they stopped at Mushroom Rock, literally in the middle of the road, she couldn’t help but grab hold and pull herself up. She kept doing it, working her way around and up until she was standing on top, and then felt a little silly when everyone below clapped.

Knife was standing with his arms crossed, smirking, and she had a feeling he was happy she was showing a little of who she is to his brothers.

She heard Gen gasp when she started down, but she was fine. Daisy actually hugged her the moment her feet touched the ground. “OMG! I was so worried, but that was awesome!”

She hugged her back and told her, “I love climbing. It’s kind of a hobby.”

“I know who we’re calling the next time someone needs to crawl onto Duke’s fucking roof,” Bubbles said with a laugh. “Damn girl, that was impressive. I mean, you don’t weigh much, but shit, that took some skill.”

They stopped at a dozen overlooks and took a few short hikes to see waterfalls. She loved Greg’s Two Falls, and took her boots and socks off to do some rock hopping below the falls.

They ate a picnic lunch at Canyon Mouth Park — piles of sandwiches sorted into chicken salad, tuna salad, ham-and-cheese with mayo, with mustard, or both. Tuesday had helped make the chicken salad and tuna salad, and knew the other ingredients were available, but she hadn’t realized the ol’ladies in the RV would be assembling it all into sandwiches on the ride down.

Chapter 19

When they mounted the bikes after lunch, Tuesday hoped she never got used to the roar of over forty motorcycles thundering to life and then riding with grace around curves in a long, swaying line. Choreography on powerful machines was a completely different kind of dance, the engine sounds dropping and rising with the terrain and the curves, moving around the canyon’s rim like a single living, breathing organism.

She couldn’t describe how it felt to be part of it, but it made her soul want to soar, and wolves don’t usually want to take to the air. She’d seen it in Willow, back on Edward’s point — Tuesday wanting to be a few feet from the edge while Willow had her toes over the edge, wanting to lean into the vastness and soar over it.

She pressed her cheek against Knife’s shoulder and watched the canyon as they drove around the rim, the bike leaning one way and then another, and was happy everything in her life had brought her to this perfect moment in time.