#Harley Bikes Supply

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

Miracles and surprises were never in short supply around Christmas, you had learned that during the last Christmas you spent with Bucky and the club; your own family. But, what if something came along, uprooting your certainty, and presenting all of the questions you were beyond nervous to find the answers for?

You knew one thing was for certain, though. Your heart, while full of love and adoration for the man you called your own, maybe, just maybe, had room for another special someone. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 2.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Fluff, implied surprise of a... small bundle

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ Is this really happening? Am I really doing this? I think I am, and I hope you guys like it 🥹

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✰ Heart by Sleeping At Last

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The town’s Christmas Fair was a well anticipated event, and for weeks, you offered your help, free time, and your ideas to the local school to pull it off. It had been history from then on — tireless hours spent with paper snowflakes, countless decorations, and roping the guys in on the fun, too.

Before the fun truly began, and after a very exciting meeting with the kids and their families, you were elected the leader of their small committee; the President of your own little festive family. 

What made the fair all the better, though, and warmed your heart the most, was that all proceeds from all purchases would be donated to the local hospital; to put a little cheer into the lives of the kids that were unable to be home for Christmas. Much like the previous year with the bike run. 

And, naturally, when it came to making the decorations, out of all of the members of the club, Peter was the one that was all for it. Even Sam had grudgingly joined in on the fun once he learned that there was a prize for the best-looking snowflakes. 

A whole other beast, though, was convincing Bucky and Steve, a steadfast duo in their stubbornness, and they did not budge, not even an inch, on the fact they were not taking part. “You can go have fun with it, baby,” Bucky whispered into your temple once, after you tried to convince him yet again. You sat across his lap, tracing the tattoos over the arms that held you close. “I’ve got too much shit to do.”

Steve was much the same, using the same excuse as the President. “Sorry, Sweets, I have to get all this fuckin’ paperwork done and you know what Buck is like if I fuck it up.”

You did, and you pouted at the pair of them whenever you sorted through the snowflakes and they were within your field of vision. 

Days passed, and still, your bribes and pleas went ignored or brushed away with another excuse. 

Until finally, the fair’s set up date rolled around — the big red circle on the calendar on your fridge made it very, very obvious. 

It started off without a hitch; every stall was erected and placed in increments with the help of the families, and, surprisingly, the club; both sides worked in tandem to make sure the kids would have somewhere to showcase their creations. 

You watched with a critical, artistic eye as Steve and Bucky worked on the marquees and the heavier weighted items, and you directed them with softened commands — it was true, you knew they were busy as the President and his right hand, but they did take the time to help set up for your big day. 

It made it all the better, having them there.

“Thank you, boys.” Steve’s arms wrapped around you tightly, and his beard tickled your cheek as he kissed you on the cheek, chuckling quietly. 

“You’re welcome, darlin’,” he said. “I best be off, I’ll come check in later, alright?”

You nodded and stepped away to stand next to Bucky, whose arm immediately went around your waist to pull you into his side. Steve’s Harley roared to life, and you watched him ride from the car park and down the road, until he was out of sight. 

“It’s lookin’ amazing, baby—tomorrow’s gonna be beautiful,” Bucky said, a hint of awe in his voice as he looked around the fair. “My own little President, huh? You gonna get the kids their own bikes?”

A genuine laugh shook your shoulders, and you shook your head. “I wish. Come on, we’re not done!” 

You ignored Bucky’s grumbles, his endless complaints, and pulled him along behind you as you skipped towards the next thing on your to do list. 

Not even once did it cross your mind to ask where Steve went, or what he was up to. And, if you had been a little more inclined to notice, you would have seen just how upbeat Bucky was ever since his Vice President left; how he kept trying to hide his smile while he watched you sort what went where, or how when you glanced up at his face from your task, you would see a glint of something in his bright eyes.

Or, at the very least, you would have noticed how Bucky did everything and anything to make sure you did not leave the park where the fair was to take place the very next day. 

The sun had started to sink on the horizon, turning the sky orange and pink with the hues of gold between. You looked up from your task with a yawn, then glanced around to see most of the parents packing up for the day — eager little ones running around their feet and clamouring to get into the neatly packed decorations. 

“Why don’t we head back, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, putting a box of rope underneath the covered bottom of the stall you were currently working on. You blinked and looked at him tiredly, but you smiled as he neared. “You look exhausted.”

The warmth of his hand tenderly cupping your face soothed your tired mind, and his fingers wandered from your cheek down to your shoulder, where he squeezed. “Yeah, I think I’ll take you home—can’t have you droppin’ dead from exhaustion, especially not before your big day.”

“Okay,” you muttered, conceding just this once that it would be best. The soft, comforting warmth of your bed could not be denied any longer. A few shouts of goodnight followed your departure from the fairgrounds, and you sat behind Bucky on his Indian, content to nap as he drove you both home; the lull of the engine a familiar lullaby. 

The fleeting dreams of something small in your arms made your heart almost burst with fondness; how the little bundle would wriggle in delight as the sound of the bike rumbled — just as it did now — made the whole of your being inflate with helium, lifting you in the contentment of it. 

A leather clad hand squeezed yours, and you blinked yourself awake. The garage of the clubhouse was lit up in the fading light of the day, and the Christmas lights that Peter had hung glinted and shone over the white snow. “We’re home, sweetheart,” Bucky said, unclipping his helmet. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside and into a blanket burrito.”

“Yes,” you breathed, envisioning the fluffy, plush blankets that awaited you. 

Bucky helped you off the seat and unclipped your helmet, stowing it away in the pannier before he dismounted himself. The walk to the clubhouse was slow, hindered by your constant yawning, but when Bucky opened the door for you, you stopped dead in your tracks, blinking into the darkness of what would normally be the bar and games room. “What—?”

The lights flickered on, bathing the room in warm light — filtered by the absolutely ridiculous amounts of paper snowflakes strung down from the roof and on garlands. Tinsel was on every possible surface it could be stuck on, and you stared, slack-jawed, as Sam, Peter, and Steve jumped out from behind cover. 

“Surprise!”

You shrieked and hiccupped on a gasp, floundering from the shock of seeing that they all had taken part, even in secret. Arms enveloped you from behind and you looked over your shoulder to Bucky — he was grinning, that charming pull of his lips that had you hooked from the beginning. “Surprise, baby.”

“You did it! You did it, and you didn’t tell me!”

“That’s the point of a surprise, Sweets,” Steve chimed in. A soft blanket appeared from behind his back, wrapped in gold ribbon. “Here, you need to get to bed and get some sleep for tomorrow.”

Bucky let go of you, and you bounded forward to grab the blanket, but only after you collided with Steve’s chest to crush the blond in a hug. “I can’t– Thank you, thank you so much.”

The next morning, after one of the best night's sleep, you awoke in a flurry. Excitement pumped adrenaline through your veins, and after shoving cup after cup of coffee under Bucky’s nose, you were on your way to the fairgrounds. 

It was crowded as Bucky pulled into a park; the others would follow later, but as you were the President of the committee, you needed to show your support. The stalls were brimming with life, and the children had the widest, brightest smiles on their faces as they gushed and chattered about their wares — a majority of which were actually the crafts of their parents. 

“I think it’s been a hit,” Bucky said, a big grin on his face. He looked at you then, pride swelling his chest. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

You felt the heat of his praise crawl up your neck, and you ducked your head as you grabbed his arm. “Let’s go see what they’re all doing.”

Bucky kissed you on the cheek, and led you through the crowds, arm in arm. 

The stalls were bursting with Christmas wares — wreaths and lights, decorations and door stoppers, then there were rows and rows of knitted wares that were softer than the clouds that sent the flurries of snow down from the sky. “There is so much,” you said, wonderstruck. “Look at it all, Buck! They all did so well.”

“I think, sweetheart,” Bucky said, leaning closer to a stall where a small boy was enthusiastically exclaiming about his father’s automotive models, “That it was you that brought them all together.”

“I would agree,” a voice said, and you looked over to the source. It was one of the mothers that attended the meetings regularly; always with a smile on her face. “We couldn’t have done it without you, truly.”

Your eyes widened a fraction and you fidgeted with your fingers, overwhelmed with the compliment. “Thanks– Thank you–”

She smiled at you, then she looked at Bucky and began to talk to him about the models he was looking at so intently. “My husband worked for hours on these.” A wooden motorcycle was placed in his hands, and Bucky looked at it with glee akin to the child before him. “He took inspiration from your bikes, did you know?”

“No,” Bucky said. He looked into the woman’s face and blinked, as though his eyes were burning from the tears he choked back. “How much?”

The two talked about prices, and you took the opportunity to look around at the rest of her wares. There were clothes, all embossed with all manners of machinery and vehicles: classic muscle cars to modern ones, to planes and trucks — even farm equipment. 

It was an explosion of colour as you took it all in, and the adult shirts and sweaters turned into children’s wear just as the small boy noticed the President of the motorcycle club of his town. A loud squeal left his widened mouth, and you glanced over to see Bucky knelt down on one knee, asking the boy all kinds of questions: “Did you help your dad make these?” to “Is this what you want to do when you’re older?”

Your heart soared, and your stomach flipped. 

Bucky brought the bike model, and he tipped the little boy for excellent service, the smile never leaving his face as he handed the boy the money. There was a surprised exclamation from Bucky’s lips when the kid launched himself forward to hug him around the thighs.  

It was while Bucky was occupied with his new attachment that you noticed a small array of tiny baby clothes. 

Colours and designs were more subtle in comparison to the adult clothes, but one onesie caught your attention in particular. A black motorcycle, much like Bucky’s, was embossed on the front, just by itself, no excessive font or exaggeration of size; an almost perfect replica of the bike that was Bucky’s chariot. 

“You’ve spotted it, honey,” the woman said, her voice fond. You looked at her and then at Bucky. “Oh, don’t you worry,” she gestured at her son. “He can talk the ears off of anyone.” 

“I–” You tried, but your mouth had gone dry, and your stomach had twisted, a fluttering thing that you refused to acknowledge. “I’m not–”

“That’s okay,” she soothed, nodding. “It is a cute onesie; I can’t blame you for being hung up on it.”

“But if I were–”

“If you were,” she said, a knowing glint in her eyes, “I would say it’s the perfect thing.”

Unable to stop yourself, you looked back at Bucky and the small boy. He was animatedly gesturing at the rest of the models, that same childish glee on his face, as though he couldn’t believe an adult was so invested. 

Bucky, however, looked between the display of models and the boy, his eyes soft and filled with such genuine care and enthusiasm that your heart skipped a beat. 

It hammered against your ribs, roiling your stomach and making your limbs feel like jelly. Could—?

“Why don’t you have it, love,” the vendor said, gently putting the folded onesie into your hand. “From one woman to another, I think you have found the one that would love another just as much as he loves you. And, by the looks of it–” She paused, smiling at her son and the President of the motorcycle club with something resembling maternal love. “That would be a hell of a lot.”

The onesie found itself tucked into your pocket, the weight of it so heavy and cumbersome, but lighter than air — a contrast you could not comprehend. And as you walked through the rest of the fair, taking in the sights and smells of Christmas, you couldn’t help but feel the want, the longing for a Christmas Miracle of your own.

🥹🥹🥹

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #MB #rookthorne's works

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 18

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

I want to give a shout out to Cora_Line99, who made a beautiful edit inspired by this story! :)

I'm just constantly blown away by all of your support. Buckle up, because this is a crazy one. Enjoy!

We break through the trees just half an hour later. The sky yawns wide and blue, the vibrant pastures cracking open like summer fruit. It's so beautifully weird, prancing through the grass in my soaking wet clothes, hair plastered to my neck, a bundle of Cherokee roses in my hand, the smell of pollen on the breeze. My squeals and giggles ring out through the morning as I race through the tall wheat, toward the farm.

It's the happiest I've felt in a long time.

Dad trails behind me, all the way up the thin path and through the gate, until we reach Andrea standing watch.

She tips her straw-coloured hat at us, looking us up and down with a small, sceptical smirk. "What the Hell happened to you guys?"

"We went swimmin'!" I laugh without explanation, skipping past without a care in the world.

"Sure," She chuckles, watching me go. Dad asks her where we can find Carol, and she points to the RV. "Oh, uh. She's in there, just knock."

Turns out, swimming's real easy. Weren't as scary as I thought, 'cause yeah, I guess I was a little scared, but all I had to do was kick my legs like I was riding a bike and swish my arms like a bird, and then that was it! I can't wait to go with Sophia, when we find her. She gon' love it.

We step up to the RV together. I wait with ants in my pants as Dad knocks on the door. He takes a respectful step back after, giving me a lopsided smile. He tugs on my wet ponytail. I whack his hand away, giggling, and glance over at the main gate, where Rick's car is parked on the gravel driveway. It must be time for them to take Shane, soon. The doors are all open, a couple supply bags strewn across the back seat. Rick and a few others are checking maps and pointing and nodding in agreement around the hood, while Shane leans against the opposite side of the car, head hung. The sight makes my stomach roil strangely and my fingers tighten around the flower stems. I know he deserves this. But did my Momma deserve what happened to her? Before my own thoughts can consume me, my attention is pulled back as Carol's muffled voice calls out, come in. 

I take a deep breath and follow Dad inside.

I notice straight away all the crumpled tissues littered on the floor. Smells like sadness in here. It's so dark from the drawn curtains that it feels like we're in a cave. When my gaze finally lands on Carol, who up until now I thought was just a lump of blankets on the sofa, I straighten. I realize we must look like a pair of idiots. She watches us stand here awkwardly in the narrow walkway, a grown man and a little girl dripping pond-water onto the floor, holding a bunch of white roses in my muddy hands. I think there might even be algae in my hair.

Wiping her wet eyes, Carol mutters, "Sorry for the mess." 

She was scared of my Dad last night. She still looks wary, but maybe she likes flowers, 'cause she cracks the tiniest smile.

"Oh. This is nothin'." Dad assures her, picking his nails so he can avoid lookin' her in the eye. "Should'a seen our old house. We're used to mess."

Sometimes I like to wonder if our paths would'a crossed had the world not ended. Most the time, answer's no. But somethin' tells me Carol ain't lived a life so different than ours. Both had cruelty, and bad people, and suffering. Bet we both shopped at the Dollar General, too.

I like to think we would'a run into each other at some point or other.

"We picked ya some flowers." I tell her, fiddling with them. "Cherokee roses. Found 'em growin' by a pretty lake this mornin'."

Her smiles grows a little bigger.

"Story goes that when the American soldiers were movin' the Indians off their land," Dad starts telling the story, mustering up the courage to meet her gaze, now, "The Cherokee mothers were cryin' and grievin' so much, 'cause they was losing their little'uns along the way to disease and starvation that the elders, they said a prayer; asked for a sign to give 'em strength. Next day, these roses grew right where the mothers' tears fell. I ain't fool enough to think there's any flowers growin' for our family... but I believe these ones bloomed for your little girl."

Holding them out to her, I add, "To make ya feel a little less like the whole world's against ya." 

Her eyes grow shiny with tears. Uh, oh. Did I say the wrong thing?

Peeling the blanket off her body, she stands and comes to kneel in front of me. She takes the flowers, and then hugs me. Even though I'm wet and I must stink like fish and dirt, she hugs me. Pulling back, she places a little kiss on my cheekbone. It makes my skin tingle warmly.

"Thank you." She sniffles, before standing and placing another kiss on Dad's cheek. I swear he goes red as a cherry. "Thank you both."

He begins, "About... yesterday—"

She shakes her head, clutching the flowers to her chest. "You're a good man, Daryl." She says. "Shane's wrong. People can change."

Just like yesterday, all he can do is nod. He ain't the best with words, just actions.

Carol turns to arrange the flowers in a jar, looking a little brighter than before.

Once we're outside, I see the white roses sitting in the sill of the now-open window, soaking up the sun. Across camp, I also see Lori, Jacqui, and Carl sitting at the picnic table together, smiling like they were watchin' the whole interaction. Glenn, sitting near the fire, trying to look angry but not doing a very good job of it. Dale next to him, sending Dad a stern look, and after Dad nods, an accepting look on his face.

"I'm goin' out, now, chicken." Dad calls out from behind the towel I'm changing in front of. I peel off my wet clothes and they land on the ground with a solid slap. Man, it feels good to be outta those. I pull on a blue tank top over my white shirt. "Look for the kid for a while."

"Oh, okay." I hum, and then ask, "Can I come, too?"

"No. You're stayin'." I hear him rooting around for his boots. "I ain't up for losin' another little girl while I'm at it. 'Specially not mine."

I really wanna search for Sophia, but I guess I've had my fair share of wandering around the woods for now.

With a sigh, I agree, "Fine. You gotta come back before dark, though."

Amused, he sarcastically quips, "Yes, boss."

After stepping into my khaki shorts, I push past the towel and head into the tent to look for my hairbrush, but my bag ain't here.

"Dad, you seen my bag anywhere?" I ask with a frown, upturning our blankets and sleeping bags. "I can't find it."

"Should be there." He shrugs. "I ain't touched it."

"Me, neither."

The duffel with our clothes in it is here, and so's Dad's bag, but mine's up and vanished. I swear it was here just this morning. I check the truck, and the truck bed, and even under the truck, and then the tent again, and around the fire. By that time, Dad's about ready to head out.

He hauls his crossbow over his shoulder and places a quick kiss on my hair. "Just keep lookin', you'll find it. I'll see ya later. Be good."

"I will." I mumble out of habit, left standing alone in our camp.

Guess I'll just have to use someone else's brush.

"Hey, Harley." Lori greets me when I reach camp again, after Andrea happily lends me her hairbrush. "Would you like to join us?"

Looks like they're still working on those spelling quizzes, the ones Carl was sayin' his Momma makes him do sometimes. It don't sound very fun, but it'll kill some time 'till Dad gets back, so I take a seat next to Jacqui at the picnic table. They hand me a lined piece of paper and a pencil.

"You know I ain't good at this," I pre-emptively warn them all, to save myself the embarrassment later. "Wait, no. I'm not good at this."

Lori just smiles. "That's alright. That's why we're doing this. Now, Carl's doing some big words, but you were in second grade, right?"

I nod, taking a peek at his page. Survival, Radishes, Difference, Counterpart. Wow, those are big words.

"We'll get you to do some one-syllable words, then; start small." That's what we did back at the quarry. "You wanna put your name at the top?"

"But you know it's mine."

"Just do it," Jacqui winks at me. "She likes to do things the old way."

Shrugging, I carefully pencil in the letters of my name onto the first line. Harley. I ain't done that in months. Looks like shit, kinda. But Lori tells me Well done. Then I gotta try spell Place, which is the weirdest word ever. When since does c make an s sound? And what's with the e?

As I'm working on the next word, Road, Lori asks, "What school did you go to, Harley?"

"Northwood Elementary." I muse, tongue stuck out in concentration. "Didn't go very often, though."

In my last school report, my attendance was at thirty-nine percent. That's bad, apparently. Some lady had to come talk to my Dad about it.

"Is that why you suck at spelling?" Carl giggles, earning a hard kick under the table. "Hey!"

I remind him sassily, "You can't spell, neither."

He wrote 'Harly Dikson' on that Pokémon folder, after all.

"Eyes on your own work, Carl." Lori chides him. "Don't think we've forgotten about that spelling bee we had at the quarry."

Jacqui laughs, "Boy said K-A-T."

"Whatever," He huffs.

"You done there, Harley?"

"Think so." I hold up my page. Rowd. "That right?"

"Almost. It's an A instead of a W." Lori corrects me, making me roll my eyes. Whoever made this language was a real twat. "Try Duck, next."

"Sophia was better than both of us combined." Says Carl, a little sadly. "I wish she was here, already. Dad said we'd find her days ago."

"I know. We just have to be patient, honey."

"I hate being patient."

"It does put a damper on things that Shane won't be around to help search, anymore." Jacqui sighs. "One of our best men, gone."

Lori scoffs. "'Best'?"

"You know what I mean. Crazy, sure, but good with a gun. We need that."

"His heart wasn't in it, Jacqui. You know, he told me the other day that finding her was hopeless. Wanted to quit."

"Really?" She mumbles, "Wasn't that way when Harley went missing."

"He tried convincing Rick to call off the search. He wouldn't hear any of it, though. Rick won't give up. He's not like that."

She shakes her head. "Well, thank God for that."

"My Dad's lookin' for her, too." I add. "He left not long ago."

Lori smiles warmly. "And thank God for him, too."

I mirror her smile. Thank God for Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon.

It's as I'm writing my final word, Horse, that we hear a shout from across the farm. We all jump at the suddenness of it, whirling to look in its direction. Oh, no. From what I can see, Shane's refusing to get in the car. T-Dog scolds him from the driver's seat; Rick from right in front of him, one hand on his holster, the other on Shane's shoulder. Lori lets out a small gasp when he shoves Rick into the door, his whole head red.

"If you ain't gonna do it, I will." He angers, pointing at the barn. "Them things in there are gonna kill you all, Rick!"

"What's goin' on, Mom?" Carl asks worriedly, his quiz abandoned. "What're they arguing about?"

She mutters, "I-I don't know. Just stay here with us."

"You don't sort this place out, what's the point? Kickin' me out won't solve nothin' if you ain't even gonna keep these people safe, Rick!"

"Please, Shane. This is hard enough as is!" Rick retorts, teeth bared. "This is on you! You brought this on yourself!"

"All I ever did was make sure you were safe. I'm askin' you to do the same!"

"You know I will!"

"Not without clearing out that barn, you ain't. You ain't keepin' nobody safe 'till those things are gone! You know that!"

"I am doin' my best, here!"

"Well, your 'best' is gonna get everyone killed 'fore the day's done!"

T-Dog runs around the car just in time to stop Rick from jumping him, and we watch the scene play out like a distant film, our hair standing on edge, mouths agape. They continue arguing over T-Dog's shoulders as he separates them with two strong arms, urging 'em to chill the fuck out. Others start to emerge from the house, the tents, and the RV, until everybody's standin' around the field, even Herschel and Carol.

If you won't do it, I will, is all I can hear in my head as Shane storms over to the RV and snatches up one of the rifles leaning against it.

Rick's on him like glue, hounding him as he loads it, one bullet, two, three, four, five, and cocks it, snarling, "You know what? To Hell with the Greenes, Rick. They're dumb enough to keep a bunch of killers in their barn, they had this comin'. S'like you said, you got kids here."

"This is not your decision to make!"

He throws the rifle to Glenn, who catches it on instinct, looking panicked. "Take this, man. Take it. You gonna protect you and yours?"

He stammers, glancing at Maggie, who shouts, "You do this, Shane — You hand out these guns, and my Dad—"

"What? He'll kick me out?" He laughs. "Bit too late for that, now. You see that car all packed up? I ain't got nothin' to lose, no more!"

"That's not true!" Rick grabs his shirt but gets pushed off, doing nothing but making him angrier. "You have to stop this!"

Shane loads another rifle, this time throwing it to Andrea.

"Whether I shoot that barn open right now or not won't do anything except keep ya'll safe after I'm gone. Seems pretty simple t'me."

"No. Listen, we could get kicked out, anyway. This would've all been for nothin'!"

"You're wrong. I'm the trade-off, remember. I leave, ya'll stay." He grabs a box of bullets for his pistol. "Listen, it would'a been one thing leavin' ya'll here to sit around pickin' daisies if it was safe, but now we know it ain't. I'm doin' this. I'm doin' it for Harley and Carl, since you won't."

With that, he takes all his anger down to the old barn like a storm.

When Shane makes up his mind, there ain't nothin' short of Hell itself that'll stop him from gettin' what he wants. We all know that by now. Still, Rick tries. We leave the table and bunch in with everyone else, making our way down the hill, anxious to see what'll happen, all yelling over one another, Stop, What are you thinking, Don't do this, Hey, and Herschel, who holds Beth's hand, croaks pleadingly, Stop this!

When we make it to the doors, Rick reaches out at the last second and forces Shane to face him. "Let's talk about this."

Oh, this is bad.

"Whatchu wanna talk about, huh? All you ever wanna seem to wanna do is talk. These things kill. That's the end of the matter."

"Just stop and think about this for a second."

The padlock rattles loudly. Behind those doors, there's a whole, hungry army of walkers ready to come down on us, sick or not.

"I'm not a second-guesser, man." He takes a step closer to Rick. Dale and Jacqui move forward to shield me and Carl. "You might be, but that's not me. They killed Amy. They killed Morales. They killed Otis. They're gonna kill all'a ya'll, if someone doesn't do somethin' about it right now!"

T-Dog holds up his hands. "Put the gun down, man."

Feels like Rick and Shane are about to draw on one another, when a lone walker slips from the broken panel.

"Hey. Herschel, lemme ask you something. Could a living, breathing person walk away from this?" Shane goads, raising his pistol. Before anybody can plead with him to stop, he pulls the trigger over and over again, making the rotten thing stumble around. "That's three rounds in its chest! Could someone who's alive—? Could they just walk away from that? Why is it still coming?" Bang. "That's it's heart!" Beth, squealing, Patricia crying, Rick, on the verge of tears, clutching his revolver. Bang. "That's it's lungs!" Bang. "It's throat. Why is it still coming!?"

"Shane, that's enough." Glenn bravely intervenes, not a single bullet missing from his chamber. "That's enough, man."

"Yeah." He agrees, but I know it's not for the right reasons at all. "That is enough. Enough waitin' around, scared of doing what needs done."

"No," Herschel puffs, barely able to stand. "No."

"If ya'll wanna live — If ya'll wanna survive once I'm gone — You gotta fight for it. No doubtin'. No waitin'. No second guessin'."

"Shane," Rick breathes, trying to keep everybody calm, voice brittle. "We'll do it. I'll do it. Just— Just not now, brother. Not now."

His answer is the cocking of a gun.

He knows what's about to happen. "No. No, please. This isn't the way. You can still leave without doing this."

"Can I?" He retorts, squinting. "I ain't so sure you know what it takes, man. I'm not leavin' just so you can keep puttin' everyone in danger."

"I won't. I promise you that. Please."

"See, I don't believe that. Weren't for me, this barn would stay sealed 'till someone gets killed. That's your problem, Rick. You wait to take action."

"Shane, please. Don't do this."

"You saw how close Harley was to being bitten last night."

"I know. And I promise, I will never let that happen again. Just put the gun down. There's another way to do this."

"Get behind me." Glenn mumbles shakily, herding Maggie in behind us, because he knows, too.

"There is no other, way, Rick." My heart leaps up into my mouth, making it impossible to breathe. "This is what needs to be done."

Rick only has time to let out half a cry before Shane turns, aims, and fires. The lock explodes into hundreds of tiny metallic shards, raining down like shrapnel. I huddle into Jacqui's side, wondering when exactly this whole thing went so wrong. Today? Yesterday? The moment we stepped foot on the farm? The doors whine open like two old, hurt animals, releasing the dead upon us. Then, the groaning. Then, the gunshots. A familiar cacophony. I hide my face, squeeze my eyes closed, and wait for it to be over, 'cause there's nothing else we can do.

When the last of the gunshots die out, I slowly lift my head, peeking out from behind Jacqui, who I think is trembling.

A whole barn of sick-dead people, now laying in puddles of their own blood on the ground.

My stomach drops to my feet when the last of them staggers out.

A distant gasp, "Oh, God."

Sophia.

That's Sophia.

Carol's legs give out.

Rick moves to catch her.

Sophia — Or is it just the walker, now? Is that all that's left? — creeps forward in her small, blue shoes, gazing up at the sky. The feeling drains from my body. I go numb all over. This can't be real. It just can't. Everything else, yes, but not this. She noses at the air like there's a sweet scent on the breeze that only she can smell. I notice now how even walkers can have headbands in their hair, mismatched socks, bracelets their old friends gave them, a face I recognise. I notice how she's much less different than I would have imagined. Just skinnier; slower, paler. Still just a girl.

"Sophia," Carol weeps hopelessly, "Sophia."

A hic leaves my throat, then. My friend, dead. Somehow, I'd convinced myself that this one thing, out of all of it, was impossible.

How long has she been dead for? How long have we been talking about a dead girl without even knowing it?

My Dad's out there searching for her right now.

Rick hands Carol over to Andrea, and like always, steps up to do the impossible.

But this time, he almost can't do it. He tries to raise his gun, but his arm falters, and he has to look away.

I look away, too. I look at the sun, and I think about the pond. I think about how much fun we would've had there. I think about nice things.

BANG.

Her body drops into the dirt with barely any sound.

Another one of our own, dead.

All Hell breaks loose after that. Happens so suddenly, I can't even tell which way is up.

Beth wrestles free from Jimmy's embrace, falling to her knees over one body in particular, one with blonde hair like hers. A few rush forward to try pull her away, a few start crying, but most do nothing. It's in this chaotic moment that Shane chooses to make his next move. A look of pure, unbridled determination on his face, he makes a beeline for me. Shuffling, arguing, but ultimately, a big hand in mine. Shane pulls me from the group and drags me away up the hill. People start to alert each other of what's happening before I can even figure it out myself. Rick runs after us, suddenly, and then Glenn, too. Then, Lori, Andrea, everyone else. We're through the gate, now, halfway across the field and nearing the car.

Wracked with sobs, I try to tug my hand out of his, shuddering hotly, "Wh—? What's goin' on? What're you doin'?!"

His grip is far too strong to escape. He doesn't answer me, doesn't even spare me a glance.

"Shane!" Rick screams, racing up the path. I can't quite tell if he's enraged or terrified. "Stop!"

We reach the car. He grabs me up off the ground, precise as a machine, and shoves me into the backseat.

"Get in the car, Harley."

I don't wanna get in the car. More than anything, I do not wanna get in the car.

He tries setting me down, but I kick, and push, and squeal against him, even beat on him, scratch his arms, anything but get in the car, but nothing stops him from pinning me to the seat. He growls at me to, Stop it, ripping the seatbelt down and over me. He locks me in with a, click.

"No!" I grunt, grabbing for the buckle, but by the time I'm free, the door is already slamming shut. It don't budge when I yank on it. "Shane!"

He rounds the car, locking the second door, and the third. He steals the map from the hood and throws himself in the driver's seat, shoving the key straight into the ignition. The engine comes to life as I climb up to the window. Rick and Glenn are running faster than I've ever seen them run, but still so far away, screaming on the top of their lungs for someone to Stop the car!

"Shane, what's goin' on?" I breathe, petrified, trying to brute force the door open again. "What're you doin'? Let me out!"

He ignores me and orders, "Put your seatbelt back on."

"No!" God damn it! Why won't this door open?! "Let me out!"

Locked in a car, engine on. This can only mean one thing.

He's leaving, and he's taking me with him.

"Put your seatbelt on, Harley!" He shouts, twisting to grab my arm, before something over my shoulder makes his eyes go wide. "Shit! Get down!"

He manages to shove my head into my lap just in time for the entire back windshield shatter all over us.

As I clutch my head, covered in hundreds of little pieces of glass that bite into my skin, Rick screams, "Don't you dare drive away, Shane!"

He must've shot the window.

"Shit," He panics, checking if I'm alright. He glances at the bullet hole in the dash before another one splits the air and hits the radio. He grips the wheel. He steps on the gas. The tyres squeal. He makes a break for the gate, driving over rocks and twigs and even someone's camping chair, which snaps under the tyres and goes flying out behind us. I scramble to look out the broken window. Rick and Glenn, who seemed like they were moving fast as the wind, are now shrinking smaller by the second. I feel my stomach shrink with 'em. They can't outrun a car. I know that, and so do they, but they don't stop for nothin', anyway. They even try shooting the tyres, but they're too difficult to hit like this.

Even after Glenn doubles over, Rick keeps on sprinting after us down the long driveway, drenched in sweat.

But even he has limits. Watching Rick Grimes succumb to exhaustion is like watching the sun stop shining, and all hope leaves me in an instant.

"God damn it!" He cries out, shrinking, shrinking, shrinking, until he's just a little speck of beige in the distance.

"No," I murmur under my breath, realizing the horror of what's just happened. Just like that, everything's been turned upside down. I swear I was standing in front of the barn just a minute ago. I sink down onto the seat, utterly stunned. With each moment that passes, the distance between us and the farm grows larger, and the chances of them finding us grows smaller. Already, I'm trying to imagine all the ways this could end, but none of them are good. I glimpse Shane's paled face in the rear-view mirror. His knuckles are white around the steering wheel. His brow, wet.

I ain't up for losin' another little girl while I'm at it. 'Specially not mine.

What do I do? What can I possibly do?

"Shane," My voice shakes, thin as paper. I don't know what I'm trying to say.

"I know." He mutters, just as shell-shocked as I am, gripping the wheel tighter. "I know. I'm... I'm gonna make this work."

Make this work? Make what work? Are we just going to keep driving until we're lost? Is that it?

He keeps on muttering, "I'm gonna make this work."

Somehow, I think that's been his mantra since the beginning.

Highway 86, Reads the big, green sign on the side of the road, 5 Miles Ahead.

Besides me on the seat, my backpack sits on top of his. 

Oh.

"I'm gonna make this work."

That's where it went.

Sometime after the sun's moved halfway across the sky, Shane pulls onto the side of the road.

As he brings the car to a stop, I try not to let myself panic. I need to steel myself. I remember. Getting outta this — getting back to everyone — means I gotta be smart. I reckon we're about a day's walk from the farm, by now. I can't make that. Not alone. I don't even know where we are, what roads to take, how to get back. A map, then. I'll need a map. Shane's got one. It's laying out across the passenger seat. Maybe I could—

"I know what you're thinking." He suddenly speaks up, tone flat. He's been looking at me in the mirror, I realize. "I can't let you do it."

I try not to let my fear show on my face.

"You wanna go back." He tells me simply. "I'm not an idiot, Harley. Crazy, accordin' to Rick and all the rest of 'em... But not an idiot."

I know that. I think that's why I feel so scared right now.

I ask him, "What are we doin' here, Shane?"

"Startin' over."

"But I don't wanna start over. I want..."

I want my Dad.

He takes a minute to calm himself down, gazing out the window, at the trees. Eventually, he looks at me, again.

"You'll learn to get over it." He says. "There's a lot we can both learn to get over. But you're safer out here, with me. It's always been that way."

"What happened back there?" The barn, Sophia... "Were you always gonna do that? Were you always gonna—?"

"I was." He admits. "Since I walked into that room at the CDC, I've always known what I was gonna do. Just... Happened the wrong way, I s'pose."

I shake my head. "You ain't gonna get away with this."

"Harley," He chuckles, shrugging. "Look around. I've already 'gotten away with it'. It's already done. It's just us, now."

It's just us, now.

I look out the window. Trees, trees, and more trees, and a thin road that stretches for miles. Silence. And nobody but us.

He sees the defeat wash over me and turns to get out. "I need to clean out the glass."

He comes around to my door and helps me climb out. My feet hit the leafy ground. The breeze skirts across my skin. It would be so easy to run. But where am I meant to go? He's right. I'm safe with him. Somehow, the open air and the endless forest makes me feel more trapped than ever.

I sit on a nearby log, staring at a little beetle crawling across my boot, as he uses an old shirt to sweep out the broken glass.

Once he's done, he whistles for me. "C'mon, sweetheart. We gotta move."

We gotta move, 'cause they'll be looking for us. I let that thought calm me. It's all I have.

I get back in the car and he closes the door behind me.

Dad's gonna raise Hell when he gets back.

Author's Note.

Daryl and Harley have made up. It was time for some more drama. 😼

Don't worry, THIS IS TEMPORARY! Trust me, Daryl's not going to let this slide.

Sorry about Sophia... I know there were some of you who didn't want me to kill her off. I would've loved for her and the other kids to live long lives together, but I just couldn't do it.

Also, when I was writing the first scene, all I could think about was that episode where Daryl just walks up to Leah's cabin and throws a dead animal on her doorstep 😭 No decorum

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

Again, shout out to Cora_Line99 :)

#the walking dead #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daddy issues #parent daryl dixon #angst #fanfic #reader #shane walsh #rick grimes

[wetsteve3]

The “flathead 45” motor had Harley-Davidson’s longest production run, from 1929 to ’73, in all sorts of guises, from roadster WL’s, racing WR’s, military WLA’s, and longest of all, the Servi-Car trike. 

With an estimated 50,000 45′s built during World War II alone, there was a seemingly endless supply available for every kind of use and abuse in the second half of the 20th century. Not many survived into the 21st century in un-chopped, un-bobbed and unmodified condition, as we find with this lovely machine. 

Harley-Davidson was late to the game with its first 45 CI model when it was playing catch-up to the popular Excelsior Super X and Indian 101 Scout. The 45 gained a stronger frame and engine improvements like larger flywheels, aluminum pistons and better oiling in 1932. 

Five years later, more changes to the 45 line resulted in the Model W of 1937, which proved a stone reliable workhorse machine with a four-cam timing chest that made the W ripe for tuning. The Model W and its variants proved perfect for Class C racing, which allowed only cataloged machines of 45 CI (or OHV bikes of 500cc). 

Late 1930s Model Ws were home-tuned across the U.S., and Harley-Davidson offered racing models like the WLRD and WR, which proved to be the mainstay of Class C racing for more than a decade. The Model W’s longevity had much to do with its simplicity of design and heavy-duty construction; the flathead W is often mistaken for a Big Twin, as it shares styling with its larger 74 CI and 80 CI brothers. 

This final-year 1952 (titled as a ’53 with G Model cases) Harley-Davidson WL is a landmark machine. It’s rare enough being an original bike, with all-original fenders, tanks and more, but the 1952 Model WL is the last year of the original, non-unit-construction 45, which was replaced by the unit-construction Model K that same year. 

This bike was comprehensively restored 200 miles ago, with a full engine and transmission rebuild, re-spoked wheels and more; today, it’s ready for more years of enjoyment of this ultra-reliable and sweet model.

#bike week #bike show #biker women #motorycle women #harley show bike #biker #Bikers #bike races #biker bitches #Biker Girls #biker babes #biker bar #biker chicks #Biker Rally #motorcycle #vintage motorcycles #custom motorcycle #motorcycle racing #Custom Chopper #antique motorcycle #chopper #harley #harleydavidson #harley riders #harley chopper

[motorcyclecamping]

Harder-Walker Harley Expedition 1949

In 1949, two friends in California, Paul Harder and Dick Walker spent nine months planning a trip from Long Beach, CA to Rio de Janeiro. They gave consideration to using 4-wheel drive vehicles, as well as other motorcycle models. They agreed on Harley-Davidson motorcycles, a 1941 FL and 1947 EL. Both bikes were already well-used, but their confidence was high.

The quality of gasoline varied as they progressed, which sometimes meant hot running for the engines. At times, they averaged 60 mph on good roads. At other points, a road might simply dwindle and end. So they had to make due and go overland.

The adventure tour of Central and South America departed from Long Beach, CA in the Winter of 1949. They left with 250 lbs of supplies, “wads of passports, health documents and tourist information.” In southern Mexico, over 100 of those pounds was discarded.

Harder and Walker also outfitted their motorcycles with auxiliary gas tanks, mounted on the front.

[tabletopwhumper]

Whumptober Day 26

Things may get a little smutty at the end. My first time writing anything like this so please don't judge too harshly... *hides*

Separated

John Miller thinks he is living in a fugue state. Early mornings and late nights blur together to the point that daylight is daylight and darkness is darkness. Time has no meaning and sleep has become scarce. And there’s only so much SoyCaf in the world.

Standing up, he stretches with a groan. His injured knee howls in protest at the abrupt weight shift but it’s almost an afterthought now. Aimlessly wandering through the garage for the hundredth time, he notices an errant socket has rolled off the workbench. It’s easy enough to return it to the designated space and Aces takes a moment to check the rest of his tools. They’re perfectly organized and arranged. Of course they are. He’s sorted and cleaned and re-sorted the myriad of tools a dozen times in the last few hours alone. The bench, the pain in his knee, tweaks to the bikes… anything to keep his mind off his lover’s absence. 

A simple run, she’d said. A day at most…

“Relax, these gangers just got lucky with this drop. They don’t even know what they’ve got!” Throwing a few supplies into her pack, Ali moved through the garage with an ease that felt wrong. John sighed. This whole damn thing feels wrong. “I’ll be in and out,” she offered, reaching for her helmet. “Reid has my back. And, push come to shove, I’m sure I can bargain with them for it.”

His unease must have been apparent because she stopped to give him what the thought was supposed to be a reassuring smile. But his girl always was a terrible liar and Aces found that he was far from reassured. 

“Reid is green, he doesn’t know the streets. Not exactly the kind of backup I’d rely on. Besides, we aren’t sure if it WAS luck. You know this shit could go deeper than that. Stay and let me help with the legwork first.” Subconsciously he picked up the keys to her Harley to hang them back on the hook.

But Ali would have none of it and snatched them back. She kissed him, the kind of kiss that never failed to make his stomach flip. And as she pulled away a gentle hand tapped his cheek. “If we wait, those parts are gonna get lost in the black market. Or worse: parted out to the competition.”

“At least let me come with you.”

Throwing a leg over the seat of her bike, Ali looked at him sadly as she secured her jacket. “We’ve been over this. Your knee is still borked from the coast race.” Both eyebrows rose as he hobbled toward her, his limping gait evidence enough. “Walls aren’t meant to be driven into, babe.”

Johnny leaned across for one last kiss. “Love you,” he called over the sound of her Harley roaring to life. “I’ll see you later."

But it’s been three days. And she still hasn’t replied to his messages or missed calls.

“Fuck this.” 

Grabbing his jacket and slapping a stim patch on his leg, Aces marches toward the garage. The oversized door begins to rise at his approach and with an easy flip of a switch the outer floodlights engage and cut through the pitch black night.

Somehow, despite the stim patch flooding his system with meds that make his pulse race, his heart almost stops. 

Ali lays on the concrete. There’s no sign of her bike, but there’s no way she rode it here. Not in the condition she’s in. As he scrambles closer he can see the blood paints her face and jacket both. A piece of cloth is wrapped tightly around her arm and it’s not until he kneels beside her that John can see it’s a piece of Reid’s race team jacket.

Aces’ fingers tap across his commlink’s display as he frantically sends a series of messages: chop shops, fixers, friends… anyone he thinks might be able to help.

“Ali?” His voice is trembling nearly as much as his hands as he tries to get some response from the girl he loves. “C’mon sweetheart, wake up for me.” But there’s nothing. No fluttering eyes or change to the shallow breaths that he can just barely detect.

His commlink pings. Help is coming. It’s a small comfort next to the fear gnashing at his heart. Trying to get a better sense of her injuries, Aces examines her more closely. There’s a bullet wound in her shoulder. He can see a myriad of scuffs and a few grazes. But it’s not until he reaches for her hand that the severity of her condition hits him.

Because there is no hand for him to hold.

Now the mornings and nights are indistinguishable for an altogether different reason: endless days spent in a clinic beside his lover as she sleeps. His world has shrunk to the four walls of this room and the quiet swish click sounds of medical equipment. Though the quiet beeps and occasional groans that fill the air now are far preferable to those first few days…

A shrill alert from the heart monitor drew Johnny to his feet as his gaze swung from the display to Ali’s face. Still pale, still motionless. But it was with a delayed sort of horror that he realized the slow rise and fall of her chest had stopped completely. "Alison? Hey, c’mon,” he begged, cupping her face in his hands. “C’mon baby, don’t-”

“Move!” A number of nurses and doctors flooded the room and John was shoved toward the door. He couldn’t see what they were doing, couldn’t see Ali. And all he could hear in those seconds that felt like an eternity was the screaming of medical equipment reminding him that her heart wasn’t beating and he wasn’t… he couldn’t…

The screaming stopped. And in its place, instead of silence, was a beautiful steady rhythm. The relief that cascaded through Johnny was nearly enough to double him over.

It’s days before she’s stable. The MageDoc is a blunt woman with kind eyes, but even she isn’t sure about the prognosis. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

And so John Miller waits. Days spill into each other. Jordan and Tim alternate sitting with him so one of her brothers is always there, but during the night it’s just him and Ali. Just Johnny and the girl he loves fighting for her life in a bed two feet away. “Still unresponsive” is something he’s heard repeated by the docs and nurses and he’s not sure what it means. But it’s not a good thing. Because even after the cyberware is grafted onto the stump of her right arm and the MageDoc has done her work Ali still won’t wake up. 

“Hey girl,” he murmurs, one calloused thumb running across the knuckles of her remaining hand. “I know you’re still in there. You gotta wake up for me. Please? I’m…” John feels his voice break around the lump in his throat. “I... I love you... so fucking much. Please…”

But his pleas go unanswered.

Dozing in and out of sleep, Aces dreams. Ali is home and they’re tangled together on the couch watching some horrible trid about street racing. She keeps making comments about the shit quality of the cars. He laughs and a bittersweet note sounds in his chest. All he wants is to live in this moment forever as she nuzzles her head against his shoulder-

Movement from the bed brings John hurtling back to wakefulness. Even through his sleep filled haze he can see changes in Alison’s breaths as she struggles toward consciousness. He jumps to his feet, nearly falling on his injured leg, before bending over the bedrail. “Ali? You with me?”

She groans. Not an unconscious sound from an unresponsive body but a distinct and deliberate sound from the woman he loves. Slowly she brings her hands to her face. “Holy shit,” she rasps. “Those are gooooood meds!” 

A strangled laugh pulls from him as John pulls her into his arms. His hands are trembling but he doesn’t care, can’t bring himself to care about anything except the exquisite relief sweeping through him. “It’s okay,” Ali says as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. “Go easy, I feel like a giant bruise.”

John eases his grip, but only far enough to pull back and look at her. “Heh. Yeah, sorry. It’s just…” Tears sting his eyes and he wipes them away. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if…”

She doesn’t let him finish, instead pulling him back against her. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Me too.”

Something hot and angry bubbles up from Aces' chest. “Fucking hell. Why didn’t you just…” But he bites back the words. Now isn’t the time. She’s awake. That’s all he cares about. 

It's days before Ali is vertical again. What had been endless hours of desperate fear are replaced with the comfortable familiarity he shares with his girl. She fills him in on what led them here: the gang wasn't such a small outfit of thugs, backed by a much larger syndicate that hadn't looked fondly on two strangers with too much intel. Reid had been killed right off and Ali had managed to escape, but only just. It was only her familiarity with the area and a sidearm that had saved her life. She had dragged herself back using everything she had left. 

Ali shrugs and insists she's been through worse, though he can't imagine what. And despite her nonchalance Johnny can see the troubled set to her shoulders, her eyes a little more distant, and the frustration at her new cybernetic. He makes it a point to see that her new arm is tuned to her personal preferences, even after they return home. He doesn't want this to be a daily reminder of what she’d endured or seen as a loss.

But returning home is not a return to normal. Not right away. There's work to catch up on, a slew of commission projects waiting for them. And simmering beneath John finds that he's still so damn angry. Angry that Ali’s stubborn nature had led to yet another near-tragedy. Angry that she doesn't seem to have any regard for her own god damned life. 

He can't bring himself to say the words aloud. Not when she’s still getting acclimated. Not when the shadows haven't left her eyes. So John funnels his frustration into the work that needs doing. The engine of a new auto-drone is nearly finished as Aces picks up his discarded t-shirt and wipes the sweat beading across his brow. He takes a sip from the open can of SynthAle on the desk, stopping to examine his work before he hears the door open behind him. 

Before he can turn to greet her Ali does it for him, spinning the chair and straddling him in a single motion and Johnny is surprised to find that she's wearing one of his work shirts…. and nothing else. The shit hangs off her slender shoulders, wide open and revealing everything. She burrows her arms behind his bare back and lays against him.

After days of distance, after days of uncertainty and fear, the reaction to her skin against his is instant and violent; an oil soaked rag dropped onto a smoldering ember. Every synapse is alright and Johnny feels tears flood his eyes even as his jeans tighten.

"I thought I'd never get to feel you in my arms again," he confesses, his voice thick as a shuddering breath heaves from his chest. But he drinks in the sight of her, savoring every second as his hands ghost up her ribs and over her shoulders. Eagerly, John rains deep kisses along her neck, the curve of her collar, up her chin.

Ali pulls back, his face cupped in her hands, as her shuttered gaze bores into his. "Never again," she swears. Reaching down and freeing the hardness in his jeans, she runs her new hand along its length, feeling every familiar inch as she positions herself… and sinks down as the slick walls pull him inside. Aces gasps as she settles against him, pressing her forehead against his. "Never again without you."

The fire between them grows to an inferno, burning away all the fear, the sadness, the anger. Rhythmic rocking leads to a deep pulsing within her and the release is simultaneous and explosive. 

Both lovers collapse back against the chair, Ali's face resting on his shoulder as Johnny cocoons her in his arms. Still inside her, he mirrors her oath. "Never again."

#whumptober2022 #no.26 #separated #oc #shadowrun #fic #gang violence tw #amputation tw #nsfwhump #smut #original character

[learnaboutzeromotorcycles]

Absolutely no Motorcycles

Zero Motorcycles is an American business that produces electrical bikes. Previously known as Electricross, the business was founded by former NASA designer Neal Saiki in 2006. The business is headquartered in Scotts Valley, California. The firm has a varied product consisting of scooters, mopeds, as well as motorbikes. Absolutely no bikes are cost effective and also offered for both road and also off-road riding. Each version has different power and array capacities. These top zero motorcycles are designed to stabilize speed as well as range. The Zero FX has a range of 91 miles, while its street-focused equivalents are street legal in all markets. In addition, the Absolutely no FX is capable of off-road riding. The No Motorcycles feature a cutting edge electric powertrain. The business's engineers have made an inflexible aircraft-grade light weight aluminum frame that is enhanced to make best use of the automobile's electric powertrain. This framework design supplies smooth power shipment and superb cyclist functional designs.

Zero Motorcycles redefine the term "green" transportation with no discharges, low sound, and exceptional trip high quality. Zero Motorcycles was established in 2006 by a previous NASA designer, Neal Saiki. The company initially passed the name Electricross, however rebranded to No Motorcycles around 10 years ago. Back then, the business's EV innovation was in its infancy. It took four years before Zero Motorcycles was able to launch its very first manufacturing design. Its very first design, called the Zero Motorcycles S, had a series of 50 miles and a top speed of 70 mph. One significant drawback of No Motorcycles is that they do not have consistency in the build quality. The business has actually experienced several recalls as well as high quality concerns. Sometimes, Zero Motorcycles needed to turn to extreme steps to get their bikes fixed. However, this is not a deal breaker. Zero Motorcycles are ending up being increasingly preferred worldwide, and its appeal is growing. The company's newest products include a new battery as well as enhanced performance. These bikes are the initial really electrical motorcycles. You can click here for more information on motorcycles.

Their layouts are similar to traditional Harley-Davidson bikes, and zero motorcycles have actually been gaining ground all over the world considering that they were released. One major drawback is that high obligations on Absolutely no bikes' designs in Europe have actually made the business much less affordable. However, this is expected to alter after the modification of the obligations in November. No Motorcycles uses a full variety of designs that are 100% electrical. They consist of the Zero S, SR, DSR, FX, and also DSR models. The brand name's Z-Force powertrain eliminates the demand for transmission gears and also gives immediate torque at one rpm. This system likewise removes the requirement for regular maintenance. Absolutely no motorbikes also feature a lithium-ion power pack as well as motor. Both were established in-house by the firm. Both use progressed lithium-ion cell chemistry as well as battery monitoring systems, allowing the bikes to traverse 200,000 miles on 80% of their original capability. You can learn more about this topic here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motorcycle.

[harleydavidsonbikepics]

Custom re-built Harley Davidson to be auctioned off to pay for memorial for WW1 digger

Auction Centre Bundaberg auctioneer Bill Young, with the custom-built 2007 Super Glide 1690cc 103ci Harley Davidson bike. Picture: Supplied A custom re-built Harley Davidson bike will be auctioned off at Bundaberg, Queensland, this weekend, to raise funds for a memorial shrine for a World War One digger. Leslie Thomas was a member of the 10th and 15th Light Horse Brigade and 3rd Camel Corp in World War One. Advertisement He died in Darwin, Northern Territory, in 1949 and is buried in an unmarked grave in Darwin Garden Cemetery. Inspired by his great grandfather's WW1 service, Ross Thomas is selling the custom-rebuilt 2007 Super Glide 1690cc 103ci motorcycle, with the proceeds from sale to pay for the Wargrave Headstone on the unmarked grave.

The 207 Harley Davidson Custom Super FXDCI Dyna Superglide motorcycle was recently fully restored by veterans. Picture: Supplied Mr Thomas said the bike started out as a standard Super Glide, but was custom re-built by three Defence Force veterans, as a way to manage their PTSD. "This bike has been built in memorial of the sacrifices that our service members have made and continue to make," he said. "My great grandfather, despite his service to this country was never given a headstone. Advertisement "With many phone calls to ADF and visits to the RSL subbranch, I requested permission to have a headstone erected to acknowledge his life and service." Mr Thomas' great uncles were also ANZACS and part of 38th Battery Field Artillery and Engineer Reinforcements. He is an ex-third field engineer sapper but left the ADF after the loss of his wife, who was in the RAAF, to cancer at 27.

View +11 Photos Pictures: Supplied Mr Thomas said the bike had been built in memory of the sacrifices that service members had made and continue to make. "The bike is a 2007 Super Glide / Wide Glide front end with a Heritage back end," he said. "It has a new 1690cc motor with stage three put through it." IN OTHER NEWS: The bike has been sprayed with 2021 Ford Ranger blue and the artwork has been hand painted by the veterans, with the Ode on the tank, the Battle of Villers-Bretonneaux on one side and the charge of the Light Horse Brigade at the Battle of Beersheba. The front guard has Lest We Forget and an Australian flag and the rear guard has Lest We Forget with a soldier and his rifle. Advertisement "I believe that no soldier should be forgotten," Mr Thomas said. The bike will be auctioned off at Auction Centre Bundaberg on August 27.

Based in Rockhampton, Central Queensland. Contact: 0437528907 Based in Rockhampton, Central Queensland. Contact: 0437528907 More from National More from National More from National Source link Read the full article

#auctioned #Custom #Davidson #digger #Harley #MEMORIAL #pay #rebuilt #WW1

[mxharleyhua]

who? @owenryder what? painting where? lake mallory when? earth week

Harley was doing a lot for earth day; litter pickup, 5K, biking, and picnics. But something he hadn't done yet was dedicate some time to doing art. Often, he worked in the dead of night when most of the town was sleeping. He loved painting at that time, but it meant he usually just worked in his apartment. So he packed up his portable easel, a couple of his smaller and cheaper canvases, and some of his painting supplies and headed to Lake Mallory. As he approached the open area near the water, he realized he wasn't the only one with that idea. He wasn't surprised to realize the other painter was Ryder. As he approached his friend, he pointed to the lack of cochlear implant on his ear to tell Ryder that he couldn't hear anything. Harley always wore them at work, both at the gallery and at the studio, so Ryder hadn't interacted with him being completely Deaf much. "Do you mind if I join you?" He asked, already putting his stuff down so that he could dig out the case with his CIs in them. After attaching them and turning them on, he turned his attention back to his friend. "I'll be able to hear you now."

#(ryder.) #(earth week.)

[internationalrealestatenews]

[ad_1] Rilea Group is hoping to faucet into patrons' rock 'n' roll power with its newest condominium venture, the place patrons and residents can drive a fleet of Harley-Davidson bikes and calm down in a vinyl report lounge. The Miami-based agency is launching gross sales of a short-term rental-friendly venture in Wynwood referred to as The Rider at Wynwood, based on Rilea President Diego Ojeda. Ojeda mentioned he even trademarked the phrase, “Take a experience on the wild facet,” a play on Lou Reed's “Take a stroll on the wild facet.” Renderings of the Rider at Wynwood (Rilea Group) The 12-story, 146-unit constructing, deliberate for 94 Northeast twenty ninth Road, might be subsequent to Rilea's Mohawk at Wynwood, a deliberate 12-story, 300-unit house constructing at 56 Northeast twenty ninth Road. Coastal Building would be the common contractor for each, Ojeda mentioned. Building is predicted to start this yr. The Rider at Wynwoodwhich obtained its identify partly due to its proximity to Brightline's deliberate Wynwood station, may have models priced from the $600,000s to $1.8 million. Patrons will face no rental restrictions and may enter their models right into a rental program or handle them themselves. Renderings of the Rider at Wynwood (Rilea Group) The models might be delivered furnished, with high-end facilities that embrace Bertazzoni home equipment, Cosentino Dekton counter tops and Porcelanosa rest room fixtures. With two providing short-term rental choices have grow to be a favourite for buyers throughout South Florida as a result of iInvestors can revenue extra from renting their models out for shorter intervals of time than conventional leases. The Rider may have 11,000 sq. toes of retail house, divided between 5,000 sq. toes on the bottom flooring and the rest for a 6,000-square-foot rooftop speakeasy lounge impressed by Sugar at East, Miami, that might be accessible by way of two non-public elevators. The remainder of the rooftop might be for residents solely. Renderings of the Rider at Wynwood (Rilea Group) Along with the 5 Harley-Davidson bikes the developer bought, residents may have entry to Vespa scooters and electrical bikes. He mentioned the Rider is a boutique venture “with lots of soul” that's pushing the sting. Facilities will embrace a “reset” spa with chilly plunge swimming pools, saunas and IV remedy. Much like The Bond on Brickell, Rilea's earlier condominium venture, the developer will show prints from the Morrison Resort Gallery, Iconic Photos and Trendy Rocks Gallery, based on the discharge. Renderings of the Rider at Wynwood (Rilea Group) Rilea beforehand partnered with the Saline, Michigan-based Promanas Group on the Wynwood condominium constructing, however Promanas is not concerned, a spokesperson for Rilea mentioned. Property data present the 0.7-acre assemblage for the Rider at Wynwood web site beforehand traded for $12.2 million in 2021. Rilea is engaged on securing a roughly $45 million building mortgage for the venture, Ojeda mentioned. Building is booming in Wynwood, the place greater than 2,200 flats and condos are within the pipeline, based on an evaluation by The Actual Deal. Learn extra [ad_2] Supply hyperlink

[the-firebird69]

This is a skrull and Timmy d is input into a hulk which is more like an orc and this is more like a goblin, but this is not a goblin it is more like CBD as Thanos it's what they actually look like here he is a rock arm which is not typical but they can't mutate into it because they're mega mutants. And as you can tell when location that they're in is Tennessee and it's somewhere Timmy d has been going for a long time and this job gets thicker and thicker and wider and apparently his rear end. And it's going on that is trying to fight it and figured out something what he's doing might be stupid there's implications to this the biggest one is what's in Tennessee and our son and daughter are trying to tell you something and the reason for them being there for defense and they're not the same as the ones in Lord of the rings it's not the majority of them these are mega mutants and they're in Tennessee defending the secrets and he's probably rubbing into the lesser demon goblins and hobgoblins and making enemies fast

Thor Freya

This is our puppy right here and really a nasty opponent and it is from a bearded dragon partially as our son and daughter said and these are intense creatures they have special abilities that exceed many or almost almost all of them except creatures like Galactus and the searcher and Thor and Freya have celestials actually the celestials are outrank everybody but these creatures are very powerful and can kick some serious butt like Thanos beating up a hulk now this is going to happen and he's seen in the character soon enough

Frank Castle hardcastle

Things are coming down to it right now we are going to celebrate later and get work done and I need to elect people to certain positions for a new project it's when he's been dreaming of it is the beer project and we have other projects to do that with the Sportster motor Harley-Davidson smaller bikes and the 737 and the new car we need to get that going faster that's Rodan and they're looking for it already and we need a few more things hospitals are a disaster food supply jobs and transportation huge projects and nuclear bombs but we need to sign up people and I'm signing up our teams and I'm going to go to Olympus and get permission to sign up others and right now I need to do some work there and he's asking anyone who doesn't want to whole place to blow up to volunteer now for full-time duty with me and I do appreciate it

Duke nukem Blockbuster

The phone is off the hook I'm sending it down and we will help you assign people we're going to get that going now

Thor Freya

Olympus

Good

Hera I'm helping my husband with the above of course

[harleyjobs9]

Exploring Thriving Career Opportunities at Harley-Davidson: Jobs that Fuel Your Passion

In the world of iconic motorcycles, Harley-Davidson stands as a symbol of power, innovation, and a unique lifestyle. Beyond the roar of the engines and the freedom of the open road, there lies a dynamic realm of career opportunities within the Harley-Davidson family. This blog unveils the diverse spectrum of Harley-Davidson jobs ,offering an in-depth look at roles that cater to a variety of skill sets and professional aspirations.

Harley-Davidson Careers: Discover a range of Harley-Davidson careers that go beyond the assembly line. From marketing mavens to finance gurus, there's a place for every professional in the Harley-Davidson family.

Motorcycle Design Jobs: Dive into the creative hub of Harley-Davidson with insights into the roles of designers shaping the future of motorcycle aesthetics. Explore how your artistic flair could find a home in the heart of motorcycle innovation.

Engineering Positions at Harley-Davidson: Uncover the intricacies of engineering roles at Harley-Davidson, where cutting-edge technology meets the classic craftsmanship that defines these legendary bikes.

Harley-Davidson Corporate Jobs: Peek behind the scenes of the corporate world at Harley-Davidson. From HR specialists to legal experts, explore the backbone of the company that keeps the wheels turning.

Retail and Sales Careers: Learn about the fast-paced world of retail and sales at Harley-Davidson dealerships. Find out how your passion for motorcycles can translate into a fulfilling customer-centric career.

Harley-Davidson Marketing Opportunities: Delve into the strategies and campaigns that make the Harley-Davidson brand resonate globally. Explore the exciting world of marketing and communications within this iconic company.

Supply Chain and Logistics Roles: Uncover the logistical prowess behind Harley-Davidson's global operations. From supply chain management to logistics coordination, explore the roles that ensure a smooth ride from production to delivery.

Finance and Accounting Jobs at Harley-Davidson: Navigate the financial landscape of Harley-Davidson and explore how your financial expertise can contribute to the success of this legendary brand.

Harley-Davidson Internships: Gain insights into the internships offered by Harley-Davidson, providing a stepping stone for emerging talent to join the ranks of this esteemed company.

Harley-Davidson Culture and Employee Stories: Discover the unique work culture at Harley-Davidson through the eyes of its employees. Hear their stories and experiences that showcase the passion and camaraderie that define the Harley jobs.

In conclusion, this blog serves as a comprehensive guide to the array of career opportunities within Harley-Davidson, offering a road-map for individuals seeking not just a job but a fulfilling journey in a company synonymous with freedom, adventure, and the spirit of the open road.

#harley davidson jobs #harley jobs

[darcolomew]

Criminal intent ch 2

After we got back from blasting the vipers we partied hard as fuck, im talking whisky, vodka, Budweiser, cocaine, backwoods, bongs, shrooms and percs. I obviously don't remember that night but the next thing i do remember is getting a call that Jorjas house got shot up by the vipers, the Wendigo rydas, the Pirates and the black flags all sent guys to track down the shooters, it ended in a carfire on the side of the highway and 4 missing persons, all vipers, never found. The next day, my brother, the sgt of arms of the Pirates called me to come to the clubhouse on 16th ave. I hopped in my ride and drove there wondering what it could be about. When i pulled up to the old church that shut down years ago, there were 3 bikes and my brother was waiting outside the big white building at the black double door enterence, i got out of my car and greeted him, "what's up brother?". He replied "the prez wants to talk to you bro." "oh shit, did i do something?" "Nah nothing like that, come in."

When i went inside the president and the vive were sitting at the table and got up to shake my hand, "matt, my name is Axel, this is my vp, Doughnuts, and you obviously know speed demon (miles jones). We have heard good things about you. We understand that got shot up belonged to your girlfriend, she works for us, she doesn't know about this plan but i want you to take out the president of the blue viper crips and we'll give you $10,000. We will also supply you with a desert eagle with a full clip, complete the contract and its yours" I replied with "fuck yea im down to kill that crab."

They gave me the information i needed and the gun then i drove to his house, the bastard was outside smoking a cigarette, i started recording on my phone, propped it against my windshield then i aimed at his chest and shot 3 rounds then drove off, grabbing the phone and trying my best to get a shot of the body then headed to the parking lot they said to meet them at, when i got there, besides the 10k, they had a Black Harley Davidson with white sides, with chrome handle bars and a black leather cut with "Pirates" for the top rocker and "prospect" bottom rocker. I got out of the car and approached them, took my phone out and said "here's the video" Axel watched it and said "Very good, here is your money, we would also like to ask you to prospect for us, if you are willing to join the bike is yours" miles dapped me up "what do you think, brother?" I just said "im down"

[thebikerbookforcharity]

#myrtlebeach #southcarolina - Mar. 25

@myrtlebeach_harleydavidson

We are excited to present to you the details of our

2nd annual Ride-A-Wish DUAL RIDE!!

Once again we are partnering with Gator 107.9 to bring you this awesome event!

Join us on SATURDAY MARCH 25th, 2023 for this DUAL RIDE with Low Country Harley-Davidson; all to benefit our LOCAL Make-A-Wish SC Chapter.

MYRTLE BEACH HARLEY-DAVIDSON

Registration from 9:30am-11am

KSU @ 11am

$15/Rider & $5/Passenger donation.

Enjoy coffee, donuts & music while lining bikes in the back parking lot. With kickstands up at 11am *take a ride* to Buzz's Roost where we'll meet the riders from Low Country for an After Party!

LOW COUNTRY HARLEY-DAVIDSON

Registration 9:30am -10:30am

KSU @ 10:30am

Enjoy coffee & donuts while lining bikes in the front parking lot. Kick stands up at 10:30am; enjoy a *scenic ride* to Buzz's Roost where we'll meet the riders from Myrtle Beach Harley Davidson for an After Party!

----------------------------------

You’re invited to celebrate 120 years of Harley-Davidson at our National Spring Season Opener, Saturday March 25.

• Check out the new 2023 motorcycles and products, including the 120th Anniversary lineup and apparel

• Earn Prizes & Giveaways*

• Register for your chance to win** a 2023 Harley-Davidson® Breakout 117 motorcycle, (2) Tickets to Homecoming™ Festival, a 4-night stay in Milwaukee and $900 in travel money

• Complete the dealer tour and get a free koozie*

• Sign our commemorative banner to get a free 120th-branded sticker*

*While supplies last.

**No purchase necessary. Purchase does not increase odds of winning. Must be 21 years or older. Need not be present to win. See participating H-D® dealerships for details or visit official rules at 120thOpener.com.

----------------------------------

BUZZ'S ROOST AFTER PARTY:

Enjoy free food, Live Music, H-D Door Prizes, Raffles, Giveaways & more!

A great time for a great cause! We cant wait to see you there!!!

THANK YOU To Our Event Sponsors:

IHEART Radio

Gator 107.9

Steelhorse Law

J&J Air

Buzz's Roost See less

#harleydavidson #motorcycles #charity #charityevent #fundraiser #makeawish

#thebikerbookforcharity

#harleydavidson #motorcycle #motorcycles #ducati #bmwmotorrad #indianmotorcycle #yamaha #honda

[awesomechrisharry]

Cargo Bike Market Global Industry Analysis, Size, Share, Growth, Trends, and Forecast 2020 – 2030

The global Cargo Bike  market is estimated to attain a valuation of US$ 6.3 Bn by the end of 2030, states a study by Transparency Market Research (TMR). Besides, the report notes that the market is prognosticated to expand at a CAGR of 15% during the forecast period, 2020-2030.

The key objective of the TMR report is to offer a complete assessment of the global market including major leading stakeholders of the Cargo Bike  industry. The current and historical status of the market together with forecasted market size and trends are demonstrated in the assessment in simple manner. In addition, the report delivers data on the volume, share, revenue, production, and sales in the market.

Request for a sample of this research report at (Use Corporate Mail Id for Quick Response) - https://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/sample/sample.php?flag=S&rep_id=80620

The report by TMR is the end-product of a study performed using different methodologies including the PESTEL, PORTER, and SWOT analysis. The study with the help of these models shed light on the key financial considerations that players in the Cargo Bike  market need to focus on identifying competition and formulate their marketing strategies for both consumer and industrial markets. The report leverages a wide spectrum of research methods including surveys, interviews, and social media listening to analyze consumer behaviors in its entirety.

Cargo Bike  Market: Industry Trends and Value Chain

The study on the Cargo Bike  market presents a granular assessment of the macroeconomic and microeconomic factors that have shaped the industry dynamics. An in-depth focus on industry value chain help companies find out effective and pertinent trends that define customer value creation in the market. The analysis presents a data-driven and industry-validated frameworks for understanding the role of government regulations and financial and monetary policies. The analysts offer a deep-dive into the how these factors will shape the value delivery network for companies and firms operating in the market.

Buy this Premium Research Report | Immediate Delivery Available at - https://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/checkout.php?rep_id=80620&ltype=S

Cargo Bike  Market: Branding Strategies and Competitive Strategies

Some of the key questions scrutinized in the study are:

What are some of the recent brand building activities of key players undertaken to create customer value in the Cargo Bike  market?

Which companies are expanding litany of products with the aim to diversify product portfolio?

Which companies have drifted away from their core competencies and how have those impacted the strategic landscape of the Cargo Bike  market?

Which companies have expanded their horizons by engaging in long-term societal considerations?

Which firms have bucked the pandemic trend and what frameworks they adopted to stay resilient?

What are the marketing programs for some of the recent product launches?

The list of key players operating in the Cargo Bike  market includes following names:

BMW Group,Butchers & Bicycles,Cezeta, Douze Factory SAS,Energica Motor Company, Govecs Group,Harley Davidson,Hero Electric,Johammer E-Mobility GmbH,KTM AG,Mahindra & Mahindra Ltd.,NIU International,Rad Power Bikes LLC

Request for customization of this research report at - https://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/sample/sample.php?flag=CR&rep_id=80620

Cargo Bike  Market: Assessment of Avenues and Revenue Potential in Key Geographies

Some of the key aspects that the study analyzes and sheds light are:

Which regions are witnessing rise in investments in the supply chain networks?

Which countries seems to have benefitted from recent import and export policies?

Which regions have witnessed decline in consumer demand due to economic and political upheavals?

Which are some the key geographies that are likely to emerge as lucrative markets?

Which regions are expected to lose shares due to pricing pressures?

Which regions leading players are expected to expand their footprints in the near future?

What are some the sustainability trends impacting the logistics and supply chain dynamics in the Cargo Bike  market?

What are some of the demographic and economic environments that create new demand in developing economies?

How are changing government regulations shaping business strategies and practices?

About Us Transparency Market Research

Transparency Market Research, a global market research company registered at Wilmington, Delaware, United States, provides custom research and consulting services. The firm scrutinizes factors shaping the dynamics of demand in various markets. The insights and perspectives on the markets evaluate opportunities in various segments. The opportunities in the segments based on source, application, demographics, sales channel, and end-use are analysed, which will determine growth in the markets over the next decade.

Our exclusive blend of quantitative forecasting and trends analysis provides forward-looking insights for thousands of decision-makers, made possible by experienced teams of Analysts, Researchers, and Consultants. The proprietary data sources and various tools & techniques we use always reflect the latest trends and information. With a broad research and analysis capability, Transparency Market Research employs rigorous primary and secondary research techniques in all of its business reports.

Contact Us

Nikhil Sawlani Transparency Market Research Inc. CORPORATE HEADQUARTER DOWNTOWN, 1000 N. West Street, Suite 1200, Wilmington, Delaware 19801 USA Tel: [phone] USA – Canada Toll Free: 866-552-3453

[trustedbusinessreviewsposts]

Redfox Baggers: Revolutionizing Motorcycle Customization

When it comes to customizing motorcycles, there are plenty of options out there. From simple aesthetic changes like paint jobs and decals to more extensive modifications like engine swaps and suspension upgrades, the possibilities are endless. However, one trend that has been gaining popularity in recent years is the use of bagger kits to transform ordinary motorcycles into sleek and stylish baggers. And among the various bagger kits available in the market, Redfox Baggers stands out as a reliable and innovative option.

Redfox Baggers is a company that specializes in creating custom bagger kits for Harley Davidson motorcycles. Founded in 2004 by Donny Loos, Redfox Baggers has grown to become a leading name in the motorcycle customization industry. The company's motto, "Ride the Evolution," reflects its commitment to staying at the forefront of the latest trends and technologies in motorcycle customization.

One of the things that sets Redfox Baggers apart from its competitors is the quality of its products. The company uses only the best materials, including high-grade fiberglass and carbon fiber, to ensure that its bagger kits are not only stylish but also durable and long-lasting. Each kit is designed to fit perfectly on the specific Harley Davidson model it is intended for, and the installation process is straightforward and easy to follow.

Another factor that has contributed to Redfox Baggers' success is its dedication to customer satisfaction. The company's team of experts is always available to answer any questions or concerns that customers may have, and they are committed to providing top-notch customer service at all times. In addition, Redfox Baggers offers a wide range of customization options, allowing customers to tailor their bagger kits to their specific needs and preferences.

But what exactly is a bagger kit, and why has it become such a popular trend in motorcycle customization? Essentially, a bagger kit is a set of components that can be added to a motorcycle to give it the appearance of a bagger. This typically includes a fairing, saddlebags, and a rear fender extension, among other components. Bagger kits can completely transform the look of a motorcycle, giving it a sleek, streamlined appearance that is both stylish and functional.

One of the main benefits of using a bagger kit is that it can significantly increase a motorcycle's storage capacity. With the addition of saddlebags and other storage compartments, riders can easily carry more gear and supplies with them on long trips. Bagger kits also provide added protection from the elements, including wind, rain, and debris, making them ideal for riders who frequently travel long distances.

Overall, Redfox Baggers is a company that is well worth considering for anyone who is interested in customizing their Harley Davidson motorcycle. With its high-quality products, top-notch customer service, and commitment to innovation and excellence, Redfox Baggers has established itself as a leader in the motorcycle customization industry. Whether you're a seasoned rider looking to upgrade your bike or a new enthusiast just starting out, Redfox Baggers has something to offer everyone.

#Redfox Baggers