It was his seventeenth job interview that year. You’re not trying, his wife says, but he is. It’s just they don’t ask him the right questions. He’s not interested in career progression, or pensions, or salaries, or even bonuses. No, the only thing he wants to talk about is adventure.
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Wanted: young, skinny girls. Must be easy riders, good at leaning, unable to conceive the risk of death, tolerant of thick leathers in summer, able to toss their helmet hair seductively and not need a handbag. Larger models may sweat freely, forget makeup, eat burgers and ride their own machines.
Loved this Kathryn! Are you going to make it longer?
Thanks, Sarah. Maybe one day it might morph into something else. I used to own a motorbike you know, long, long ago. There's a strange tension between freedom and constriction around riding a bike. Actually, thinking about it, there's a lot to write about there!
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