The Sound & The Fury

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
– William Shakespeare, ‘Macbeth’

He knew by her stripper hug that he was going to have fun tonight
Dinner and drinks, her for dessert.
She makes the good nights better.
All week he struggled to sneak out for a ride but work got the better of him.
His buzzing wristwatch signaled it was time.
He slipped out of her body hug,
Climbed into his riding gear.
Grabbed a quick double espresso on his way to the garage.
He toggled through his choices.
The sun crests the canyons as he wheels out his machine.
He coasted down the hill, away from the house before firing her up.
The sound of a three-cylinder MV barking to life.
The engine makes the music,
Turning from growl to wail as she revs.
It’s the soundtrack for this morning’s ride.

The stress of the week melts away as he picks up speed.
That job sucks all the joy out of him.
But between her and the bike,
he was glad to be alive again.
Howling down the straightaway,
he drifts over to the double yellow,
flicks hard right, arching from the double yellow to white and yellow again.
Tossing her left, he tags a knee then rockets up the hill through the trees on the narrow two-lane road.
Smiling in his helmet high on adrenaline.
He follows his asphalt path as it snakes through the forest.
The rider is all in,
with the Armco keeping him honest.
Turning right the road follows the coastline.
The smell of the ocean and eucalyptus trees fill his helmet.
All good things come to end.
He silently glides back into his garage.
Electric motorcycles make for happy neighbors.
The sounds of the MV are just computer-generated.
His onboard system reads his throttle input, pumping in the appropriate engine sound into his helmet speakers.
The advanced system even mocks the power delivery and corresponding engine vibrations.
His bike is so quiet that the dogs don’t even bark.
Heavy metal thunder is dead.
The future is silent.