He knew this would be one of his last rides before the snow came. It was already cold enough that the wind froze his eyebrows and the heat from the pipes warmed his legs. It was early Friday night as he headed for the family-owned bar tucked away on a stretch of road just across the county line. That meant that while bars closed at two am in one county, we could stay open until four am. By two thirty we were at full capacity, and then some, as diehard drinkers came in for those last couple of drinks and hopes of a hookup for some lucky few.
His dad joined him behind the bar, serving up drinks as fast as they could pour while cutting some off and calling a cab, holding on to their keys until tomorrow. He'd just been discharged from a four-year hitch in the Navy and worked the bar until something better came along, but the months passed, and he found himself liking life as a bartender. There was no shortage of girls who came in, an assortment of just-legal to seasoned women who were always offering him a drink or a warm bed on a cold night. His sister told him his tough appearance and the Harley he rode made him desirable. He just laughed and kept on pouring.
Then one late Friday night she came inside, followed by a small group of friends, all good-looking and a little baked as their laughter filled the bar. He watched her approach the bar, her long jet-black hair halfway down her back and white slacks that spoke for themselves. Her smile hit him right in the heart as she leaned over the bar and ordered a drink; her perfume smelled like a siren's call as their eyes locked and every other woman in the place became invisible. A song came on the jukebox titled I Only Have Eyes for You, and he came out from behind the bar and approached her, asking for a dance. His dad threw up his hands and yelled for him to get back behind the bar, but nothing was going to stop him as she accepted. The crowd cleared out as last call was called, some heading for the 24-hour diner a couple miles down the road to drink coffee and sober up enough to drive back to where they lived.
He asked to see her again, and she told him maybe she'd come back, maybe not. A couple of weeks passed, and she came in alone that time, took a seat, and caught his smile as their eyes met across the bar. He asked his sister to watch the bar as he sat beside her, the smell of her perfume filling his senses as the same song played that had been playing when they first danced together. She stayed at the bar until closing, and he asked her to go to the diner with him, but she'd have to drive her car as it was way too cold for her on the back of his Harley. She told him to follow her to her apartment where she'd make some coffee, and he could warm up. The only thing was she lived on the second floor, which, of course, had steps, but he was determined and told her to open the door upstairs and stay clear as he revved the throttle and rode up the stairs straight into her apartment.
That was the beginning of something wonderful until a job offer took him out of town and away from her. Time marched on, and memories replaced being together; he heard she'd moved on, gotten married, and started a new life. When he did manage to come back for visits, he'd work a few shifts at the bar hoping to see her walk through the door, but she never did. Now all these years have passed, and life took the turns it was meant to take, leaving him with the smell of her perfume, long jet-black hair, and those white slacks that fit her so well.
Mike 2026
Then one late Friday night she came inside, followed by a small group of friends, all good-looking and a little baked as their laughter filled the bar. He watched her approach the bar, her long jet-black hair halfway down her back and white slacks that spoke for themselves. Her smile hit him right in the heart as she leaned over the bar and ordered a drink; her perfume smelled like a siren's call as their eyes locked and every other woman in the place became invisible. A song came on the jukebox titled I Only Have Eyes for You, and he came out from behind the bar and approached her, asking for a dance. His dad threw up his hands and yelled for him to get back behind the bar, but nothing was going to stop him as she accepted. The crowd cleared out as last call was called, some heading for the 24-hour diner a couple miles down the road to drink coffee and sober up enough to drive back to where they lived.
He asked to see her again, and she told him maybe she'd come back, maybe not. A couple of weeks passed, and she came in alone that time, took a seat, and caught his smile as their eyes met across the bar. He asked his sister to watch the bar as he sat beside her, the smell of her perfume filling his senses as the same song played that had been playing when they first danced together. She stayed at the bar until closing, and he asked her to go to the diner with him, but she'd have to drive her car as it was way too cold for her on the back of his Harley. She told him to follow her to her apartment where she'd make some coffee, and he could warm up. The only thing was she lived on the second floor, which, of course, had steps, but he was determined and told her to open the door upstairs and stay clear as he revved the throttle and rode up the stairs straight into her apartment.
That was the beginning of something wonderful until a job offer took him out of town and away from her. Time marched on, and memories replaced being together; he heard she'd moved on, gotten married, and started a new life. When he did manage to come back for visits, he'd work a few shifts at the bar hoping to see her walk through the door, but she never did. Now all these years have passed, and life took the turns it was meant to take, leaving him with the smell of her perfume, long jet-black hair, and those white slacks that fit her so well.
Mike 2026
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