Carbon 250 - Epilogue

so leave me at the roadside

hang me up and out to dry
so leave me at the roadside

hang me up and out to dry

and I don't think you see the places inside me that I find you
and I don't know how we woke up one day and somehow thought we knew
exactly what we're supposed to do

Chinatown.  That is where Dave sold his green 250.  He walked the streets for a while, until long into the night, unable to accurately mark the passage of time.  Something inside him had deflated.  He was hollow and empty, a skulking wraith.  He heard a motorcycle to his left.  A pink rider on a large pink bike rolled up.  She took her helmet off and hung it on one of the mirrors.  It was Evelyn.  Dave was in "ninja" mode, with the gray hoodie that was neither designer nor ghetto, but was instead a fabric, cut and color intended to blend in--to make you see a guy in a hoodie, and then forget him, or not see him at all.  Eve knew what he looked like, though, even clad in such a semi-disguise.

There had been a great weight on Eve's heart in the days following the glorious car chase.  Her mind would not rest until she had performed the mental acrobatics in order to figure out what they were--she and Dave--where they were, where they were going or not, and what to say to him.  She had finally ironed things out and readied her speech.

Eve spoke.  It began with "Sorry about your car" and continued on with the torrent of words that she had lined up in her head, finally ending with something like "blah blah blah and you're blah blah amazing blah blah blah and blah blah blah blah I think we are better off as friends.  You know?"

Dave waited, in case there was more.  He looked straight into her eyes and spoke evenly.

"I would rather die that be just your friend."

Ever clear, ever cold. Girls try very hard to put you in that place, the sexless prison where they get what they want and can imagine you are happy, but they only have so many ways of putting it, and Dave had heard them all.

Eve said nothing.  She stared back for a while.  Then, without a word, she put her helmet back on, and rolled away.  He walked, somewhat angry that he had been given such a long glimpse at what he'd be missing for who knows how many years to come.  Though he had not decided what, yet, some radical changes were in store for his life.  It was the only way he could survive.



Far, far away, and hours later, Biff stirred from the ground.  He sat up slowly.  Everything ached.  Everything burned.  Some things were infected.  He had promised himself that he would go to a hospital the moment he stepped foot in the next city.  The morning air was cool.  Biff wiped the fog from the helmet, which he had donned in the middle of the night for what little warmth it could provide.  Carby sat to his left.

Biff looked out over the great river, with the bright swirls of fog curlying over its dark water.  The sun shone low in the east, bathing the land with her early morning light.  Beyond the river lay the next city.  Every city had a personality, Biff had discovered, and he was looking forward to getting to know this one.

The early morning hours were typically difficult for Biff.  That is when his guard was down, when he could not prevent his mind from straying towards what he'd prefer to have forgotten.  This morning, though, he felt at home on the road.  He was always fine so long as he had a mission, and he had two remaining books to recover.  Biff rose to his feet and started Carby's engine.



So ended those chapters in the lives of the two men that were ever the closest to Evelyn, who we can call the pink rider: one who loved and then lost, and one who never loved at all.  It is up to you to decide who had the better fate.