An ArtMartyr Short Story
While most of Southern California was in a drunken, coke-infested nightclub haze in the 70’s and 80’s there was one family that escaped that scene and took off on the weekends to hit the sand at Rosarita Beach two hours south on Hwy 5 and into Baja California. A small beach town lined with RV and Mobile Home Parks. It is an oasis along the Mexican Riviera. And, sitting across the back bumper of the Winnebago this 72 Rapido hitched along to ensure some great family fun.
The air was filled with a salty warm breeze that enhanced the smells of the fresh fire-roasted lobster and margaritas. The Rapido allowed a moment of exhilaration to each member of the family as they took turns runnin’ up and down the beach. Chasing the surf back to the sea.
A decade of fun and the brothers; Moe now 17 and Jake now 19, are old enough to use the Rapido to get in a bit of trouble. Out on a run the two boys found a small hut in the middle of the Coastal Desert. In the house was a huge hydroponic cultivation of Mexican Red-Hair. Just as they realized what was in front of them they heard the RANG-RING-RING of a two-stroke motor coming quickly from the distance. They grabbed armfuls of the buds piled on a table in the corner and ran out the door. Quickly they ripped open the tour pak on the back of the Rapido and dumped their armfulls of smelly, sticky buds. Slammed shut and with a short kick to the starter the Rapido fires up. In a cloud of dust and blue smoke they leave the shack with the bandidos closing in fast behind.
The rear tire digs into a compact patch of desert dirt and just as Jake grips the throttle the bike launches up a berm and down into a small canyon with a maze of trails through thick manzanilla plants. With a quick thought Jake cuts the motor and rolls the bike behind a stand of the prickly bush and hide quietly as they hear the bandidos scatter around the maze. They hear the bikes rip back to the shack apparently giving up the chase. Moe makes a quick survey of the canyon to see if there are any guards left behind before they kick the bike and head back to the family and base camp.
The Rapido got them out of trouble as fast as they could get into it. And back at camp the rest of the family commented on their ghost-white faces and scrubby jeans. The boys quickly came up with a story that they accidentally ran over a skunk which explained the smelly bike.