Thursday, June 10, 2010

Bikes and Beaches (and Gorillas)

The humidity drenched wind tore through Gonga’s fur, first drenching it, then standing it on end and finally pushing it almost straight back as he roared down I-55 on his motorcycle.

Ah the freedom, the thrill of travel! It was summer and as Gonga’s responsibilities at The Textbook Game eased up, he decided to take a short treck down south to see the beach.

He eased up the throttle on his bike and leaned forward. The Harley responded with a welcome surge of power and he easily careened around the slow going motorist ahead of him. He turned sideways as he passed, grinning his plastic gorilla grin and waving at the motorist.

I guffawed to myself as I caught the look of shock in my side view mirror as the motorist processed what had just driven past. That’s how it worked. Gonga went on adventures and I shocked people with his costume.

Gonga peered south again, wondering when the ocean would finally come in view. The rolling hills of Missouri had long since given way to the flat coastal plains of Mississippi. He was nearing the Coast Guard station in Gulfport, and aching to smell salt for the first time that year.

I wondered what my buddy’s reaction would be when I showed up at his apartment later on that night dressed as a gorilla. I eased back on the throttle a bit. Better not make it too late. I wasn’t sure exactly what my friend did for a living. But judging from the number of spy novels and marshal arts literature lying around his house, it was best not to delve too deeply into learning what moves he might have learned.

But now, the beach!

Gonga turned onto a wide road bordering the coast. To the south, as far as he could see, lay the Mississippi sound. Full of salt, mud and maybe even oil. Gonga headed straight for adventure.