The Gorgeous Girls

One day, the girls at the club were in a particular uproar. The club from a few towns over had an event and we were invited as well. The charity event drew in groups and clubs from all over and made a lot of money, but it was that day, that day after the event that had the gals all frothy and rabid. Seems the hosting club was what one of our oldest members called “the Gorgeous Girls”. They were the ones who wore leather only because it showed off their impossibly tiny backsides and clung to their stick thin thighs. They hated helmets not because they felt it was their right to choose whether to wear them but because they smash down their hair. On the other hand, some of the gorgeous girls like a good helmet because it keeps their hair from tangling and twisting in the wind when they ride.

One of the gorgeous girls came to the club house the other day, bringing back an earring that they found after the event. Since it had a single name on it, they narrowed it down to who it must belong to. We asked her to just leave it, she wouldn’t hear of it. We looked at her in her tight leather outfit, her hair so elegant and perfect and great Scott! The woman was standing there with nails that matched the paint job on her bike! The gal she was going to be handing that earring back to was just as like as not to eat that poor girl alive. We all shuddered at the thought.

The gorgeous girl, or Tammy as she shyly told us was her name, leaned casually on her bike, bouncing the earring in the palm of her hand. She didn’t stare at us, but she wasn’t going to avoid our gazes either. We all held our breath when that old black chopper came up over the hill- any minute now, the gorgeous girl and our own “Old Gal” were going to come face to face with one another.

They met each other about midway- the girl was not backing down and that was pretty good and neither was our own girl, which we knew. The earring exchanged hands and they talked briefly, each of us holding our breath but for what, we could not say. The gorgeous girl showed off her hands with their paint job inspired nails. The older lady showed off her careworn hands. They looked over each other’s bikes. Then the nearly unthinkable happened, the girl got on the big black chopper while the old gal hopped on the glossy, newer bike. Almost as if they planned it, the bikes started up at the same time and they roared away. An hour later, they drove back, side by side, still on the other’s bikes. Neither looked disheveled so we assumed that they were not fighting while they were gone. Who knew that the gorgeous girl and the old gal could get along?