America 1986 - 1990
"eet's like a Solex, just a leetle stronger," he explained in his accent that no one could ever seem to place. It was true, it was only a small motorcycle, like a bicycle with a motor, never-the-less, it held some romanticism. He started the tiny engine and turned to me, smiling,
"eet makes me remember being yung."
"You still are young."
"Well, then, yunger."
The minute we took off it was like magic, the mythical American landscape unfolding before my eyes. We went faster than I expected.
"This is really something." I explained over the noisy motor. "I mean here we are, the wind in our hair, the open road before us, easy rider, Bob Dylan's route 66, Elvis on the radio, red lipstick. Y'a know what I mean?"
"No, I do not know what you speak about."
"You know, the wind in your hair, the open road, Route 66, easy rider..."
He keeps his eyes on the road but he answers me.
I am now practically yelling in his ear; "YOU KNOW, THE WIND IN YOUR HAIR, THE OPEN ROAD, EASY RIDER, ELVIS PRESLEY....." There is a long pause and I consider that he CAN hear me but doesn't, in fact, understand me.
"oh, yes, I get eet, like John Wayne, like America...."
"Yes" I say tightening my arms around his waist, satisfied, "like America."