“Look, no arms!” The amputee joked as he pedalled his “special bike” along the road through teeth gripping onto a rope for a steering-wheel. In his sidecar rode the dog, Ashly, a scrawny, skinny dog, with the most beautiful of girl’s names to its name. She was Ashly, she was a dog, she was beautiful though, not in her physical appearance, but in her general demeanor, in her patience and in her attachment to the man in the main seat, who drove with his mouth and his teeth rather than with hands and arms.
Of course the stunt, the “no arms” stunt was intended for her, for Ashly’s eyes only, and only she would really understand the humour of her owner anyway. Ashly gazed at her limb lacking lover and with tongue as stretched as possible gave a sensuous smile of appreciation, with eyes of tenderness and compassion as well as total joy and excitement at the joke. Ashly, although a dog, was aware that only she knew what the joke meant. And she held that in her heart, like secret knowledge of a lover that was both mad and both great, both helpless, yet totally free and on the run from the powers that be.
The amputee was in full speed. On the contraption, on a bike with a sidecar all deecked out like a Harley. It was a Harley to him. It didn’t matter what people thought of him on his accostomised disabled mobile. He knew it was “special,” it was one of a kind after all. But was it special in the way he would have liked? Did he even care? Of course he did. It was a bone he chewed on every single waking hour of his life. Getting stopped by the old bill was a constant threat, and since he didn’t have a licence for the “special-mobile” when the old coppers turned up it was always a struggle to peddal away full throttle. nine out of ten times our happy amputee got away with it, he got away, he escaped the clutches of the law, with his lusty accomplice Ashly by his side.
Ashly knew what she was in for the moment she set eyes on Mr No-Arms, sure he had no arms, he was a low down, dirty, rotten guy on the wrong side of the law, heading on a one way street to prison. But she knew what she was in for, she was a dog and she understood what the deal was. In truth every time they made a run from the forces of law and order, it turned her on, it never grew tiring, the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline was a kick, and besides, as she now looked at his armless, eager face laced with steering rope she had to admit to herself, she actually loved her owner more than life itself.
Who knows where the road would take them she thought. With the wind running through her flapping ears and curling through her smooth dark fur, she couldn’t care less. The Amputee, pleased at his latest jape, and even more pleased at the fact that he did what he wanted, when he wanted, revved up and took off.
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