Bikernet Blog Search Bikernet
Ride Forever -
Friday Edition

Bikernet 100-Word Fiction Contest

A Writing Contest with a 100-Word Limit

Compiled & Edited by Wayfarer

Share this story:

100 word fiction contest continues…. #100WFC

Yup, its a monthly contest open to all. Word limit is 100. Lots of Bikernet swag to be won. Just sign up for the free weekly newsletter by clicking here.

Then email your fiction story in 100 words or less to the editor 
1. for the month of May 2023: "Been There Done That" by Steven Sanner 
2. for the month of June 2023: "A Hundred" by Chris Dutcher
3. for the month of July 2023: "First Time" by Rhys
4. for the month of August 2023: "Hilary" by Gearhead
* * * 

Choices or The Economy of Life
by Bandit

The phone rang early. “Do you want it or not?” The temperamental voice demanded. It involved the sale of a 1945 Knucklehead, my dream ride.

I rolled over and touched the softest ass on the planet. She woke and twisted into my arms naked and wet. Her sapphire eyes blinked and we kissed. “Where are we going for our honeymoon?”

My phone blinked a text message. “Have you registered for school?” Dad. I rolled over and she climbed on top of me. As she pushed against my chest and stirred, I pondered the bobbed Harley and riding across Mexico.
(publication dated 22-May-2023)
* * * 

Been There Done That
by Steven Sanner
Well, I didn’t think it could happen to me. Everyone has had the feeling of deja vu at least once in their life. Some have had it more than once.

There I was, just sitting on my old ridged Shovel at the red traffic light, just enjoying the day when I got the feeling that I needed to get off the bike and run, and that’s what I did. I bailed off that thing like there was a rattlesnake under my ass. When I did there was a loud crash and I saw what was left of my bike flying through the intersection.
(publication dated 24-May-2023)
* * * 
Rear View Mirrors
by Wayfarer
They come in pairs. You buy ’em in pairs. That’s how it is with motorcycle rear-view mirrors. You can’t just pick one out of the pile and use it. It’s a set, like my Mom’s cutlery – you break one, you can’t buy just one!

I should’ve attended the summer camp for off-road terrain. I was a prick. I could’ve paid attention to the neighbour’s kid showing off his skills. Thought he was a prick. Busted motorcycle, broken ego.

On the beaten track, I got beat. There is no looking back in life. Move onward!

(publication dated 25-May-2023)
* * * 

The Break-In
by Bandit

A thug broke into the shop. Rebuilding an old Linkert in the back, I heard a noise and then a scream.

I scrambled towards the retail area, but how was I going to defend myself? I reached for my buck knife, a chrome-moly fork tube, the .38 in the drawer, a yard-long Crescent wrench, the cutoff wheel and or…

The young addict wasn’t interested in the mechanic wielding heavy instruments, just enough cash to buy another high. He turned toward his escape, leaving the young female clerk in a pool of blood. Was I to kill, maim, punish, enable or wait, harm reduction?
(publication dated 02-June-2023) 
* * * 

Rocking & Rolling
by Steven Sanner

The roar of the crash echoed in my ear as I rolled onto the shoulder of the road, along with the unshakable feeling that I had done this before, I knew I had to keep the momentum of the roll going to get clear. As I put my weight into the roll, the dual rear wheels of the semi passed by my nose.

But the feeling (or was it the knowing) that I had done all this before had me jump to my feet with one motion and I unthinkingly ran TOWARD the commotion. I knew there was something I had to do.
(publication dated 03-June-2023) 
* * *
A Hundred
by Chris Dutcher

He hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Five year sentence he’d done forty-three months, seventeen days, five hours and fifty-eight minutes. But who’s counting…

The bike wanted to go a hundred, and he’d let it. The speedo had hovered right around the one-double zero for well over an hour, he must be on fumes.

Backing off the throttle was almost like after-sex. The engine rapped down like the engine brake on a semi, counting through the gears.

Everyone looked away when he pulled up to the pumps, which was fine with him. His face tingled. He laughed.
(publication dated 04-June-2023) 
* * * 

Lane Splitting for Life
by Bandit

She called during rush hour in Phoenix. Hot enough to melt asphalt, Mudd straddled his Dyna and slid into traffic.

Had to get to his pregnant girl on time. Only one thing to do, twist his throttle to the stops. Lane splitting still wasn’t legal.

Mudd didn’t care, as he tore between frustrated, honking drivers. Taking out a sideview mirror, he nearly went down. Police sirens blared. Angry motorists cut him off. An accident ahead stopped all movement. He kept his throttle pegged as he darted onto the Highway winding into Scottsdale. He squinted against the glare, braked, screamed, screeched but made it in the nick of time.
(publication dated 10-June-2023) 

* * * 

The Bad Deal All Around
by Rhys

Woke up on a warm sunny day for early spring. Prepared for a shop run to check on my ‘49 Pan project: Rigid frame with performance gussets and a Coffin tank mounted high, with brown ribbons over metalflake paint. A girder front end was on order. A wild departure from my first bike, an old rat Triumph Tiger with an Indian blanket for a seat.

The phone rang, bad news. Break-in at the shop, everything down to the paint compressor taken. The builder feared for his life, fled to the west coast. I guessed it was a deal gone bad, perhaps drugs.

The comforting, warm, spring day suddenly turned cloudy and dark. 

(publication dated 13-June-2023)

* * * 
A Ride To Remember
by Kolohe One

“Is that a Panhead motor?” she said. I smiled and nodded yes. “I sure love the old Panheads, the vibration and the ride are like no other motorbike I have ever known.”

Who was I not to share this truth? I motioned an open hand to the pillion and watched her gorgeous face light the night sky with gleeful emotion. We rode down warm canyons to a starlit sandy turnout. Holding her hand, assisting a dismount, I grabbed my bedroll and laid out a comfy spread. Watching her starlight twinkled eyes, I realized such moments are given only once in a lifetime.
(publication dated 27-June-2023)
* * * 

First Time
by Rhys

Got wind of a ’63 Triumph for sale. I went over to see it. It was a badly chopped Tiger with peanut tank, apes, and blanket for a seat. I had ridden an old Hadaka 50 before so thought I was cool. Kicked it over the megaphones rang…. I popped the clutch and immediately the front wheel lifted pushing me back and went flying down the street. I hung on for dear life until the front wheel came back to earth and the bike bucked and stalled.

Shaking a bit and sweating I walked the bike back to the owner and said….. I’ll take it.

(publication dated 13-July-2023)

* * * 

Life in the Fast Checkout Lane
by J.J. Solari

I asked one of the clerks at walmart if they had a kind of manly sort of scented soap and he said they have one that smells like testicular cancer. I said "Do you have one that smells like unwiped fundament?" He said "Well, excuse me for saying so but I can tell you right now that that would be overkill for you. At least from where I'm standing."

I said "What do you mean." He said, beckoning me to follow him "We have one that smells like WD-40. It's on the hardware aisle. It's called 'WD-40.'" I said "You know what? I'm just going to pour a bottle of Hoppe's No.9 over my head." He said "I want to start dating you already!!" 

(publication dated 16-July-2023)

* * * 

For The Hearing Despaired
by Wayfarer

The speed limit signboard hid behind overgrown flora on public land. The no parking signboard, worn-out junk rested in the weeds. The district magistrate crept behind schedule. My lawyer, rusty on traffic violations, ducked. Me? I was screwed…tighter than the bolts on my motorcycle, which was impounded for being on the road!?

I took the stand, hand raised, and swore; cussing instead of the solemn oath. No comic relief. The Sheriff banged on the cuffs as soon as the judge’s gavel hit. Contempt of court, wasting court’s invaluable time, while possession of ‘some balls.’

(publication dated 18-July-2023)

* * *

Free To Shut the F*** Up
by J. J. Solari

ME: “Yeah like I need 9 imbeciles in British Cosplay Dresses to tell me what free speech is.”

HIM: “Well, it’s actually them explaining what free speech is with regard to the Constitution.”

ME: “So the Constitution’s version of free speech is different from what free speech actually is?”

HIM: “You are a rabble rouser and a social detriment”

ME: “Fuck you. Just answer the question.”

HIM: “Fuck YOU.”

(publication dated 21-July-2023)

* * * 

Running Late
by Rhys

Got a late start for a 2 plus hour ride to the rally. We hit it pushing the old FL and my ridding partner on a borrowed FX since his old Sportster was down. We were flying down the interstate and coming up on the off ramp. I leaned into the curve and stopped at the stop sign. Looked around no one behind. Pulled over for a few minutes before deciding to backtrack down the grade on the grass and discovered the FX on its side and several feet away my partner and his passenger brushing themselves off. Neither was hurt thanks to the grassy space between ramps but the bike was a little worse for wear. Must’ve hit the shifter thinking it was the brake, old Sporty’s on opposite side. Compression rubber made him lose it.

Since we were only an hour out I raced home and traded my FL for the El Camino and flew back to pick up the broken bike and riders.

Guess I know what we’ll be doing tomorrow.

(publication dated 11-Aug-2023)

* * * 

Too Many Dive Bars and Bar Fights
by Bandit

Little Sport threw a scrawny leg over his ‘69 XLCH outside Drifter's Saloon. He kicked hard, a Tillotson carb set him free from the bullies inside. Fuming he rode through Sundance, Wyoming, like his leather seat caught fire, to a destitute trailer park. In shambles, he tore the screen door off the hinges scrambling inside for a loaded snub-nosed .38.

His crack-whore wife gone, Sport snatched the pistol, revenge blistering his busted lips.

Everything on the line he headed out. “Dad!” His small son ran to his side. “Don’t go,” he held tight to his thigh and looked up with terrified crystal blue eyes…
He didn't.
(publication dated 25-Aug-2023)

* * *

Flat out for a flathead
by Rhys

Driving by an open garage on my way to the next job. Spotted what appeared to be an old flatty HD. I stopped and approached the person and asked if the bike was for sale. Yes it was. He quoted a price which was workable but being day before payday I didn’t have any cash in my pocket. I told him I’d be right back as I had the cash at home. Raced home grabbed the stash and made my way back. As I pulled up I saw the bike being loaded into a van.

Dollar short and a minute late.

(publication dated 26-Aug-2023)

* * *

Taking care of busyness
by Steven Sanner

There she lay. She had been there waiting for the touch of his hand for a long time. He had said she was the love of his life, but he hasn’t shown any interest in a long time. His excuses kept piling up, working long hours, too tired from work, family obligations….. a long list that seems to keep growing. He always had other priorities.

Today he finally walked in the door and went over to her, looking ashamed, but there was the gleam of want in his eye. He reached out and ran his hand along her seat, finally remembering what it was for, and said “Old girl, it’s time to get you running again” and he began the long awaited restoration of his beloved ‘63 Panhead.

(publication dated 27-Aug-2023)

* * *

by Gearhead

We rode from Northern Cal. The rain came down in buckets. I pulled off under the redwoods in Big Sur. My wife crawled into the back seat of a car. I threw a sleeping bag on the ground under a leaking makeshift lean-to. It didn’t stop raining.

The next morning the fog threatened like a dense cloud of gray paint, and my wife said, “It won't lift until late afternoon.” We had to ride.
We packed up and pull out in the rain moments before the murkiness engulfed the highway. We fought downpours, the cloud of doom, wrecked cars, 18-wheelers, dead animals and limited vision until we caught the glimmer of Santa Barbara just before nightfall. We slipped the veil of death once more.

(publication dated 28-Aug-2023)

* * *

by Rhys

I walked out of the local watering hole and straddled my ol ’53 EL chop. Bare bones ride, motor, rigid frame. And gas tank.

Usually 2-3 prime kicks then ignition on and 1 or two and she fires. Went through the ritual. Nothing. Tried again….nothing. Kept kicking until dripping in sweat and onlookers chuckling.

Went back inside grabbed another cold one and stepped back outside.

What’s that wire hanging free. Damn it. A few kicks later in the wind.

(publication dated 02-Sep-2023)

* * *

Desert Daze
by Wayfarer

My iron roared in the wind, the sand-strewn road to Las Vegas stretched hot. An extra bandana tied to my left wrist. I got two at Bandit’s Cantina. Hopping like a mad rabbit I struggled to keep up with my pals jamming ahead on V-Twin steeds. My Bandit’s bedroll balanced over my handlebars.

Suddenly, a fresh crimson cloth flashed in front of my eyes, an untied bikini top. A topless stranger hitchhiking, a mirage? My drum brakes screamed.

“Not sure my Bandit’s Bandanas will do the trick,” I noted.

She stared into my eyes, giggled, then climbed on board. I would’ve died if she hadn’t.

(publication dated 16-Sep-2023)
* * * 

Share this story:

Back to Two Wheeled Tales

Your thoughts on this article

Your Name
Anti-Spam Question:
Please enter the words you see in the box, in order and separated by a space. Doing so helps prevent automated programs from abusing this service.