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The two bikes threw up trails of dust as they turned off the road and into the gas station, the roar of their engines such that both David and Michelle grimaced. Not that the day was particularly hot; in fact out in the desert it was quite brisk. Michelle nodded at the lime green panties and then at the Hanes poster. Enough already! The laughing became infectious and David started to laugh along with them but Michelle began to feel wary. They looked at each other hopefully and hurried out the door and back to the Explorer.

They both had long hair, one blonde the other jet-black and they were both undeniably handsome; Michelle once again unconsciously compared them to actors in the Sons of Anarchy. Kyle smirked and went back to the task of repairing the radiator hose.

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They look expectantly at each other. He picked up the old can with the rusty spout and wandered off to the diner in hopes of finding water. Brin and David leaned in the door and watched the temperature gauge. David cringed.

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Brin and Kyle bent over the engine bay of the Ford Explorer, prodding and poking at the engine as they muttered to each other. Michelle rummaged in her purse and found her cell phone; she looked at the screen contemptuously, wound down the window and held it up to the sky for a minute and then threw it on the dash.

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Michelle snatched his hand away from under the hood. It looked deserted, the Texaco was faded and broken, hanging drunkenly from a rickety pole. Both David and Michelle were relieved; the bikers were actually going to help them out of their jam. Michelle was taken aback by their chivalry, she expected them to behave boorishly being bikers. David paled and Michelle felt faint; she thought that her legs were going to give way. David knew that telling Michelle that the chances of them making the wedding were about the same odds of them winning a jackpot in Reno would only infuriate her even more.

The road they had come down dissected two low hills in a sweeping descent and they could just hear the buzz of the engine in the distance. Besides the usual advertisements for cigarettes, beer, motor oil and other products one would expect in a gas station was an advertisement for Hanes Underall Pantyhose. Some joker has pinned a pair of lime green satin panties to the flaking dry wall like they was on display in the lingerie section of a department store. A joke is joke but really; this is too much!

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The filthy floor was littered with beer and liquor bottles, drug paraphernalia, cigarette butts and decaying used condoms. The bikes skidded to a stop just short of the couple, the riders faces obscured by black visored full-face helmets.

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Fair Trade By Michele Nylons David Cashmore sat at the wheel of his Ford Explorer watching a geyser of steam erupting from under the hood; his wife Michelle sat in the passenger seat fuming. David still had an imbecilic grin on his face; Michelle often thought that he was like a friendly dog that approached strangers looking for a pat and was bemused when he got kicked instead.

David and Michelle both smiled. The look of contempt that Michelle gave David required no words to be spoken. He knew how to fill the window washer and check the oil and coolant and that was the extent of his mechanical expertise.

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She decided to try and make some small talk as a conciliatory gesture. In the corner she found an old mattress with a crumpled stained blanket surrounded by several used condoms, one or two of which seemed to have been recently filled.

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He imagined a similar geyser bursting from her ears; she looked at him contemptuously, what he saw in her eyes was beyond anger. No fucking service! Most of the furniture had been taken away or vandalised beyond use. David popped the hood and stepped out of the Explorer; he gingerly lifted the hood and waved at the cloud of steam, trying to dissipate it. He was too trusting. Whoever Stephanie was, she was long gone and sans underwear. The grumble now clearly defined as two motorcycle engines was confirmed when two motorbikes crested the rise of the low hills and began to descend towards the roadhouse; two blurred orbs wavered like a mirage then solidified into two headlights.

Her gorge rose and she breathed through her mouth to avoid having to savour the stench. Michelle followed David feeling a little scalded and petulant.

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Beside the panties a series of nineteen-sixty era framed advertising posters had been hung from the wall, probably in an effort to provide cheap decoration and cheer up the baby-shit yellow painted walls. No ? The collection of boxes, hoses, wiring looms and engine parts baffled him. Someone had drawn an ejaculating penis between the buttocks of the woman with a sharpie.

David returned, carrying the watering can two handed; water sloshing over the side of it as he hobbled from side to side due to the weight of his burden. The two bikers looked at each other and smiled; they were both wiping their hands on rags.

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It caused Michelle some disquiet that he would talk so solicitously whilst staring at her; she self-consciously smoothed the hem of her dress, pulling it down her legs. He stood there looking in the engine bay of his brand new pride and joy with a bemused look on his face. He walked over and offered his hand to the blonde biker. She would describe them as ruggedly handsome in any of the books that she edited for a living.

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The sheet-iron roof that had once been adorned with a Texaco logo was hitched and broke-backed, holed in places and corroded. Story Details. The riders took off their helmets simultaneously.

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David just cringed behind the wheel. Michelle continued to explore the decrepit diner being careful not to touch anything or step into anything unsavoury. Michelle looked at the dilapidated roadhouse diner and shuddered.

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When the engine had started to overheat they had pulled into an abandoned roadhouse service station. David looked back and saw that the two bikers were busy under the hood. It fired up right away. Give it a good rinse and fill it and bring it back. Both Brin and Kyle took off their jackets and passed them to David and Michelle.

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You must to do that! The awning over the gas pumps was equally corroded; holed and lopsided, almost ready to collapse, but at least it provided shade.

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now! The motorcycles were choppers, extended forks, custom paintjobs, ape-hanger handlebars and the two men riding them appeared to be members of a motorcycle club, dressed in jeans and leather jackets with cut-down denim jackets over. He checked behind the dusty counter and any hope he had when he found an ancient rotary dial handset dissipated when he saw the cord had been ripped out of the wall long ago.

Brin and Kyle looked at other and then started to laugh. Michelle hovered near the SUV watching the bikers work. Stop this at once! Share Story. David knew that this edict would likely send Michelle into another rage but she was too occupied with getting out of the creepy diner to become any angrier than she already was. Brin can you get my toolkit? Brin dragged over two stainless steel framed chairs with ripped vinyl seats. The bikers forced the couple inside the dusty roadhouse and pushed them into the corner near the old mattress with the crumpled stained blanket.

The riders revved the engines of their machines menacingly and then shut them down.

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The bikers rested their helmets on the seats of their rides and walked over to the Explorer; David followed like a loyal pet trying to keep up with their long strides. It looked even more forlorn than the gas stand. Michelle looked at the decal with suppressed rage and sighed despondently. Kyle killed the engine and hopped out of the Explorer. It settled down in the normal range and they all grinned at each other. The windows that were not boarded over were dirty and cobwebbed and most of them were broken or cracked.

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We might as well be on fucking Mars! David was just happy that her tone had changed from anger to sarcasm.

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They filled the coolant reservoir and Kyle climbed in the cab of the explorer and started the engine. The dusty driveway was choked with weeks, the ancient gas pumps were rusted; the hoses had been ripped off them likely by some scavenger. David had felt pretty useless and was glad to be given a task. David stood behind them feeling useless. The place smelt musty; a lingering stench of mildew, stale cigarettes, stale liquor and a faint undercurrent of ancient fried food.

They dropped the kickstands and leaned their bikes on them, the engines ticked as they cooled in the sudden silence. He made mom take off her nylons and made a temporary fanbelt out of them; although I doubt those flimsy things you're wearing would be up to the task. You need a hand? Just as they got to the door that they both heard the faint one-note drone of an engine.

The bikers climbed off their machines with practised ease; Michelle was impressed with how tall and muscular they were. Hopefully one of the riders could ride back and get help.

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