Loveday Writing

Take a motorbike journey through time.**

Return Trip

I love riding my white Harley through time.

I can’t tell you how or why the time-travelling Harley showed up on my doorstep. I just woke up one morning and found it there. When I went for my first ride, it was an early Autumn morning in 2020 and I was wearing sweat pants and a singlet with a basic helmet. When I reached 110 on the highway and grabbed the accelerator to ride even faster, a bright light flashed in my eyes, engulfed me and sent me back to 1980s. It took me a while to catch on at first, due to the ‘80s coming back in style fashion-wise, it wasn’t until I saw the boxy cars parked in the streets, permed hair on women’s heads, and read the date on a much-thicker newspaper than what I was used to – 27 November 1980.

Over time (no pun intended), whilst I never figured out the how or why the Harley showed up, I did figure out the how and why of travelling on the Harley. I had to break the speed limit of the road I was on, grab the accelerator to speed up even further, and have a certain memory or time frame in mind. It turns out I travelled back to 27 November 1980 on my first ride as that was the date that the Harley had finished being made, as I was wondering where it came from.

I haven’t travelled in time to major historical events in the past, if anything my travels have been boring, I’ve just been going back to my past and watching myself and loved ones from afar. Where’s the fun in going back and witnessing major historical events, when I can get five more minutes with my Nan, who I lost to cancer at 14. On one trip, I tried to warn her about the dangers of cigarettes, but she wouldn’t listen. On one visit, I watched my parents meet each other at a debutante ball in 1975 and the sparks between them immediately fly.

I knew where I wanted to go for my latest visit, it’s been on my mind non-stop for a week. I rode down the highway as per usual, hit 110, pulled the accelerator and rode through the bright light engulfing me to 10 September 1977.

I camped out across the street waiting for the car to show up, I was there for an hour before I finally saw her.

My mother got out of the car with absolute grace, gently pushing her veil back as she looked for my grandfather outside the church. Once they went in, I snuck in and took a seat in the back pew.

She looked like an absolute angel in her white beaded, long dress, I wonder if she looks like this now that she’s in Heaven.

**Reference: Marsden J 1998, Everything I Know About Writing, Pan Macmillan, Australia.