"And she rides forever."
Benjamin turned the key.
Thomas jumped on the kickstart lever with a single, powerful, practiced stroke of his boot.
CHUG-CHUG-ROAR!
The seventy-four-cubic-inch flathead engine detonated into life with a deep, rhythmic, earth-shaking thunder that rolled across the Rocky Broad River gorge, soaring over the limestone bluffs, carrying a song of ancient, eternal victory into the cloudless blue sky of North Carolina.
The people on the terrace leaped to their feet, cheering, clapping their hands; old veterans stood at attention; and down on the river, two bald eagles rose from the hemlocks, soaring into the golden light of the mountain morning.
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Thomas swung his leg over the saddle, lifting Benjamin onto the tank in front of him, while I stepped onto the rear passenger pegs, wrapping my arms around my son's broad shoulders.
The motorcycle surged forward down the stone ramp, cutting through the autumn breeze, its wheels biting into the clean asphalt of the mountain road, pointing toward an unburdened horizon where no lie, no money, and no betrayal could ever dim our light.
