Ellie

Spinning fast, the steely rim on the bike was a shining blur. The motorbike was his dream. He called it , “Ellie”, the only other lady in his life apart from his mother. Weekends were spent cleaning, pouring love over that mean gas guzzler. She was fast and powerful. Men, women and kids all turned, powerful magnetism, to look at her, and then at him. The men were envious, the kids awestruck and the women dreamy.

She was any auto-person’s poetic dream. She had low rung seats, accentuating his lean body and sturdy torso as he rode. The rear wheels were 12”, and with a flowing exhaust, she looked like a futuristic canon on wheels. She had leather canisters on either sides of her hind wheel as storage. Her dials were of liquid crystal display. The display could notch 180 miles with relative ease.

The bike was cushioned by a single spring designed by the fanatical rider himself. He could raise or lower the body of the entire bike. It was activated by a set of hydraulic system just underneath the tank. The chassis was actually two parts and was again hand designed for the spring and hydraulic system. They had come together in strange overlapping steel tubes of hydraulic levers. They also connected the motorbike from its front and back. This system also acted as the swing arm and provided an easy ride. The bumpiest of roads could be taken at top speeds.

The brakes were again unconventional. He mounted a closed circuit of titanium alloy lubricated by a line of brake fluid. This formed the brake casing which also held the drive chain pulley. He could have patented this feature, for it bought clean lines to an otherwise cluttered wheel.

Most of Ellie was cut, carved and welded by Chris himself. Chris Hawker was German-Irish. His Irish father seduced this big boned German woman and he was the result. The distinct chin and his eyes were from his Irish blooded father. His mother gave him his flowing wavy auburn hair, and his smooth looks. His father disappeared and was never a factor in his life at any point. His mother still never spoke ill of his father. They had had a two month affair when the Major was in Hamburg on a Training exercise.

Both parted as friends and knowing fully well, that their affair was brief and purely sexual. But his mother later found out she was pregnant and she was never able to tell the Major. He had died while yomping in the marshes of South America by a sniper bullet. The bullet was never meant for his, just an accident gone fatally wrong. It was late in her pregnancy that she had found that her child’s father was not going to be around. She had weighed for many months, the decision to tell him. But then, she was late, and she never forgave herself for that. She never married.

Most Sundays, Ellie and her rider made a 103 mile trip. His mother stayed in a small country town. She refused to move in with Chris or closer.

Chris, himself was an engineering student. Not of mechanical, but that of chemical. He was part of a European conglomerate that dealt in genetical disorders and their cures. At 31, he had already created a reputation for himself as a problem solver in his Frankfurt lab. He was moving up, and fast. Eighteen months earlier, he had cracked the genetic strain for the star fish. The strain dealt in re-generation of tissue and limbs. It was a vital break through in medical science and opened a wide door of opportunity for the disabled.

That Sunday, as usual he set off for his ride on Ellie to meet his mother. It was something he looked forward to. He did her weekly grocery shopping for her. She refused to come anywhere close to Ellie. He resignedly took her around in her 4x4. He managed to do some chores which his mother saved up for him. He was a natural with the work bench and his tools.

On this Sunday, he did the usual shopping alone. His mother’s knees were getting to their early days of arthritis painfully. He stocked up her refrigerator. He cut wood chips and stored them in the wicker basket next to the fireplace. His mother wanted the creaking screen door replaced. He had already started its work the last time he was here. He left the garage door open and started to work on the door. He was hoping to finish it by 4. His mother cooked him a meal of sausages and beans, his favourite.

As usual, he was hounded for not having any female company. He retorted by saying that he had Ellie and her. His mother glared him down. He did not argue, knowing fully well who would come on top. He silently enjoyed his meal and washed it down with some hot tea. He went back to the garage leaving his mother still mumbling and nursing an icepack on her knees. He worked with renewed vigour and had re-fixed the screen door, a little after 4 p.m.

He popped into the shower to freshen up and a change of clothes which were always there in his old room on the first floor. His kissed his sleeping mom and left a note on the kitchen table. He snuck out of the new screen door. He pushed Ellie round the corner of the street before bringing her to life. His helmet donned, he released the clutch and Ellie roared a new song as she ate up the road slowly.. He hit the autobahn in a few minutes. The traffic was less and the road still moist on the corners with the previous day’s downpour. He eased Ellie to the far lane and pushed the gear to a new notch. The tune Ellie sang now was muffled to Chris through his helmet. She hugged the road as Chris enjoyed her and the vast stretch of autobahn that lay ahead of them. Not a vehicle in his sight.

It came suddenly; Chris’s mother felt it as she woke up suddenly. The mantle clock woke her up as it crashed on the wooden floor. She was numb struck with shock at its suddenness. But then everything was silent and she called out for Chris. Silence greeted her. Then it happened again, she heard the neighbours shouting, and her entire couch shook as if a giant blender was being operated, next to it. Realizing that it was earthquake, she winced as she quickly walked outside. She called out to Chris again. Noticing Ellie gone, she assumed, he had left. She was sure that she would find a note in her kitchen.

She hurriedly joined her neighbours. Chatters grew, as more people huddled around discussing the jolt. They were also putting off going back into their houses. At the end of the street, an electric pole was bent precariously. It rested on the tall traffic post. One side of the street was without power due to this and as was the traffic signal lamps. Chris’s mom went back inside to call her son. The telephone’s deathly silence told her she will have to wait to hear from her son.

The fast Ellie and Chris did not feel the destruction, nor the even a tremble. Frankfurt was already reeling under the earthquake. An entire subway had collapsed into a underground station. Three buildings were destroyed that day and it would be weeks before Germany would recover. The autobahn was smooth to Chris and until he came upon a 3 feet crack on the road. The farther side of crack has lifted slightly up due to the upheaval. Chris did not actually see the crack, assuming it to be wet patch of road under the fading light of the day. Ellie hit the crack at about 115 mph. The small elevation of the crack was the cause. The distinct motorbike broke and so did the rider.

Chris’s mom lost her son that day to an accident. Like the major, it was an accident, a single bullet and another, a spring. The crack on the autobahn broke the spring. Ellie lost her gutful of hydraulics as the spring broke. Chris felt nothing. He lay there beyond the metal railing. His heart was alive to a few murmuring heart beats. His nervous system did not respond to his open eyes. He could never mend, not even with genetic grace. Lay before him, Ellie’s spring that he was so proud of. As his heart stopped, his mind flickered, on mending Ellie.