The yellow hot, orange glow of the sun rules the day. Its heat ignites the molecules in the air and its fervent light illuminates clarity, yet blinds with its intensity. The pavement smokes with its heat, searing through the protective green leaves of the trees, causing them to sag and droop in defeat. Mechanized metal parts churn in seething rotation on rubber wheels that melt upon the pavement and fill the air with the smell of cord fabrics, bead wire, carbon black and process oils burning. There are sounds of aluminum and iron grinding. They roar and growl and roar again with the occasional high-pitched whine of self-pity as they compete for positioning upon the black-top.
Along the street sides, lean steel, aluminum alloy, titanium, and carbon fiber skeletons glide upon thin rubber tires. They are bullied by the bigger, more powerful mechanized steel murder boxes. They keep to the side, careful not to draw the ire of the larger machines, fearful that in one fell swoop they will be struck forcefully, sending their flesh and bone operators careening onto the side of the rode, severely damaging their fragile skeletons. There are those of their kind, however, that are not easily intimidated. Some battle back with speed, fiercely attempting to match the acceleration of their intimidators and boldly taking their position in the road lane, blocking the mechanized monsters forward momentum. They are forced to slow down, but never slow enough to perturb them beyond slight discomfort. There are those that battle with strategic aggression. They brazenly take position away from the monsters, unconcerned with pace, or whether they anger the flesh hungry machines or not. Battling back with insults and hand gestures, fully willing to take on the brain washed flesh operator mono y mono. U-bolt lock always at the ready.
And then there is the Devil Bike!
The bright blood red paint of its coat shines in the intense light of the day sun as it speeds along the blistering pavement. Each rotation of its tires is a thunderous roar at contact, the smoke from the burning rubber rises and rushes with the wind along with the smell of fire and melting. The tint of its silver horn-like bar ends gleam as the machine is churned on by its beast master (drooling and growling with pain and determination). Its presence is so great that the monsters are aware of its approach a block before they intersect, even though they might not know exactly what comes. They only sense its dark presence, powerful and unforgiving in might and aggression and are fearful to approach or converge with such incidental catastrophe. They are right to be apprehensive; the Devil Bike is an instrument of great exasperation, born of eternal oppression. It is vengeful and vindictive if crossed, never willing to bend or to break under the force of the physically dominant motorized murder boxes.
Despite all this, there are some flesh operators of the murder boxes that test its resolve, push its ability to tolerate. Some dare to race pass and scream insults at the beast for merely being in the road. With such provocation the Devil Bike responds, its beast master churning it faster until it is upon the infringer. The bike eases up along the side, and with terrific violence the beast master pummels the windows until the glass breaks, shards of which embed into the driver, whom cries out in horror. The bike is gone; its beast master has inflicted the necessary punishment and is off, on its way. Murder box monsters that dare to cut off the Devil Bike are in far greater danger. They are instantly pursued and once they are overtaken, the beast master is a seething mass of fury. He pulls up the front of the Devil Bike, and it rises above the street to land upon the back end of the murder box, crushing it in with its might. Another hop and it is upon the street once again, and then it is off, leaving behind crumpled steel and carbon fiber speckled with broken glass. Fates forbid that a monster driver makes the mistake of turning their vehicle into this vindictive entity, for with one fell hop it will again take to the air. With supreme agility and dreadful competency it comes down upon the monster’s hood, smashing it into the engine's block, causing pistons to grind and halt in smoke and fire. It is in the air again and then upon the ground and off, retribution paid in full.
Reality bends and folds to the presence of the Devil Bike, forever upon the path of righteous defiance, against the dominant laws and rights made for the motorized vehicle. Created by the injustice of the gas hog, the excessive ozone reducer, the speeder, the impatient commuter: the steel murder box.