Memories of a Lost Love
Ride With Harley Short Story 1
Copyright © Cassandra Parker 2016 All rights reserved.
The right of Cassandra Parker to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 First published by Cassandra Parker U.S. Edition
Parker, Cassandra (2016-12-22). E-book Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book
Sweet Agony is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All locations except known towns, and cities.
Any errors are entirely made by the author.
Photos used under licensing through Yay Micro.
This book is dedicated to John Goadsby aka Goldy McJohn for his endless hours of musical enjoyment. R.I P. Goldy, original founding member of Steppenwolf. Sonja Goadsby, the heart of Goldy McJohn, for her kind and generous spirit.
Goldy you might be gone from the physical plane but your spirit soars onward in the heavens. Every time we hear the thunder, it is you playing your Lowry organ and rocking out ‘Heavy Metal Thunder.’ When the rain tinkles up and down the scales, it is you playing ‘Tenderness.’ The sound of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle roaring down the asphalt highway is you ripping up ‘Born to be Wild.’ When we look into the night sky and see the winking of a star, it is you looking down from the heavens. Stay free, stay wild my friend. Most of all, you are watching over your fans and your heart, Sonja.
Sonja, Goldy isn’t gone for good. You will meet again when the time is right.
Tina Schneider at The Ohio State University Lima Campus. Your help in researching historical information on WOSL radio is greatly appreciated.
R. Harley, my angel, this ones for you wherever you might be in the heavens. This is our story as it might have been.
To my readers who asked for a romantic story about Harley and the gang. May love see each person through all the ups and downs of your personal journey.
Harley, my angel, this ones for you wherever you might be in the heavens.
Whoever said, Love means never having to say youre sorry, didnt know what they were saying. Love means never saying goodbye. Even after all this time, it still holds true for me. You love someone; you never say goodbye. No matter where they are, or what has happened, they are always with you by your side. At least thats how it was with Harley and me.
When he messed up and hurt my feelings, he was fond of saying, My purpose is to love you. I guess it slipped my mind. I never said I was good, but I hope you can forgive me.
I invariably did forgive him. I never could stay mad at him for very long. Even when I was upset, Harley found a way to make me smile or laugh. He brought such joy into my life. He could be a devil, but he was my devil.
His other favorite line was, If you share my bed, you must share my name. And he meant it. Boy, did he mean it! But it didn’t mean he had never made love only that it was worth waiting for when you finally found that special person.
He also said, Theres more to love than the physical act of making it. If you love someone, you are in it for the long haul. You stay with that person through broken dreams, heartache, love, and everything that goes with a long-term relationship. Not even death can separate you because with real love two people become one person.
The mid-1970s in Ohio were a memorable time. The state was still overcoming the aftermath of the Kent State Massacre over five years earlier. Gasoline rationing was in effect. Social Security funding was set to dry up.
Bands such as America, Elton John, Captain & Tennille, Linda Ronstadt, Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds, Neil Sedaka, Jigsaw, Ozark Mountain Daredevils and KC & The Sunshine Band were all on Billboards top hits chart. Harleys favorite band, Steppenwolf, had just released Hour of the Wolf in July to radio stations and in September to the public. Two tracks on that album rapidly became Harleys all-time favorite songs, Anothers Lifetime and Just for Tonight along with the classic biker anthem Born to be Wild on an earlier album.
The first time I laid eyes on Harley, it in was September on the Commons at Ohio State University-Lima. It was a warm day for Ohio, with temperatures somewhere in the seventies. The noon sun beat down upon the grounds. Clusters of students sat on the grass around the Commons. Some were reading, others talking, and a guy was playing his guitar. He was playing Sister Golden Hair by America.
Friends I met in Freshman Orientation were sitting nearby. Peg was the pragmatic one of our group. Thomas was the dreamer. He loved coming up with schemes to get to the Bermuda Triangle. Maryanne was an innocent, naïve person who attracted a strange guy named Peter March. March was an out and out stoner, but he loved Maryanne, and they both loved children.
Harley was sitting on the hill listening to an anti-war protester. I guess the protester didnt know the Vietnam War was over. It was over for America and our soldiers who had come home almost two years earlier were greeted by boos and jeers instead of pride and thanks.
Harley sat a few feet away from us with his arms wrapped around his legs. He wore worn jeans with patches on the legs and ragged holes in the knees. A black leather jacket, a t-shirt with sleeves rolled up, and black leather boots with chains at the ankles completed the outfit. He was the spitting image of a biker and would have easily fit into the Easy Rider movie. He was a rebel, dangerous, mysterious, and sexy all rolled into one man.
Did I mention he was drop dead gorgeous? He was the stuff of dreams, handsome, tall, self-assured, not an ounce of fat on his body. His hair was an incredible mix of sandy and dark brown that accentuated his blue-gray eyes. When he smiled, you could almost swear he was an innocent saint or a rascally devil.
He had a wicked sense of humor, and most of all he loved me at first sight. He used to tell me that when he first saw me, his world changed forever. He knew I was the one for him. I was the one he wanted to rest his weary body against, and I brought solace to his heart and peace to his soul.
The Devil in him kept him chasing dreams with never-ending abandonment, and yet he managed to run his customizing motorcycle empire on a tight schedule. He even ran a profit when the rest of the country was still fighting to recover from a recession and shortages of gasoline.
He loved motorcycles, and the open road, Steppenwolf, poetry, and me. I used to tease him and ask which number in that lineup I was. The allure of hard rocking Steppenwolf, the poetry of nature, the freedom of traveling the open road via a huge hog is all pretty hard to beat. Invariably he would answer, You know where you stand in that lineup, right up there in first place.
His beautiful eyes would drift over my body sending tingles all over me, and a slow smile would creep across his face as he pulled me into his arms. Then his lips would fall upon mine for a long, slow, lingering gentle kiss that invariably took my breath away, leaving me wanting more.
Who would have guessed he was my soul mate? I certainly didnt think so and I sure never thought he was a multimillionaire. He was a junior albeit he was a little older than the average junior. He attended classes on a part-time basis and spent the rest of his hours running his empire.
In 1980, almost two years after losing Harley, John Kay came out with a song called Say You Will that perhaps sums up the love Harley and I shared. Even now when I hear that beautiful song, I become emotional.
Tears come to my eyes because of that one song. It fit Harley and me so perfectly, it was almost as though the famous singer knew our love and wrote about it years later.
What I wouldnt give to have Harley next to me right now. To have his arms encircle me and hold me close, and feel his hands massage my back and shoulders. To smell the Irish Spring soap on his skin and sun-kissed hair, as I gaze into his smoldering eyes, to feel the gentle caresses of his lips brushing mine, just one more embrace to last a thousand lifetimes, one last time to feel the sweet agony of his love.