Traffic Life : Passionate Tales and Exit Strategies
Edited by Stephan Wehner
An Anthology
 
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218 Roadkill Bill
  
Crady's Second Ride Greg Blanchette Crady hit the jive point six ticks early-buggy, 'cause a ride never showed too soon. So he tucked behind the plastic hedge in front of the Tikki Hut, in case of passing cops, and straddled his bike to wait. Better early than late, after yesterday's fiasco. Blue'd called last night, said don't worry, bay-bee, happens to everybody, but even at phone resolution Crady could see the blue eyes laughing. On his first ride! His face flushed hot when he imagined the look Honch would give him when he hooked today. Crady remembered the first time he ever saw a ride. He'd wrapped his refresher courses back east and moved out here on a whim. It was where most of the softshops were, so finding the job had been a one-bit shift. He'd been stand- ing near the front of a packed stretch bus jerking along in heavy traffic, and some kids in the back started barking: A ride! Cut 'em off! Squish 'em! He'd craned his neck to glimpse two hunched, purple- clad bodies sweeping past the bus. Out front they merged with a pair from the other side, legs pumping, and flowed like purple mercury into single file and squirted up the gap between the lanes. Wow! 'Suicidal fools,' the old codger jammed against him had muttered. ­ 219 ­

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