Silver Dragon

Today I saw an old woman. Stooped and white headed with crisply creased jeans and sensible shoes she stopped in the lane beside me, her Harley rumbling like an antique Dragon.

Where was she going so early in the morning aboard the silver Hog with its sparkly black spiders web? To get her hair set? To see the cardiologist? To Bingo? To meet her younger lover; a spry sixty year old with lust in his heart for a Rebel Woman?

Was she really old or merely a hard fought thirty five?

I wish I had followed her, stopped her for coffee and heard her story. I bet it would be epic