Out on the highway, on Jeff’s motorcycle heading up Route 67, we sped away from campus in a fit of defiance; our bodies not cocooned but exposed to the open air, exposed to the danger and romance of the open road—my hair streaming out behind me like a flag, waiving our independence. Latched tightly behind Jeff on his bike, my arms wrapped around his waist, the feel of some other man’s body, the movement of his muscles under my hands as he steered the bike, was strange and exhilarating. Here were two temporary escapees on a dangerous collision course. But far better to ride, to risk being torn into a thousand pieces than suffer a slow suffocation.
We drove to the fair, however, without incident or accident. After carefully parking the bike, we wandered around the booths and stands, their trappings extra gaudy in the carnival lights, and it wasn’t…
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