Easy Rider
by Roger Ley‘It’s in here,’ he said, as he unlocked the door of the old, dilapidated wooden shed. ‘My dad lets me use this as a garage.’ The shed was sited on the edge of the golf course that his father’s family owned. ‘I’ve never been on a motorbike before,’ said Maureen as they gazed on the chrome and black leather masterpiece that was Henry’s new acquisition, now that he was old enough to hold a full license.