Zack worked every job that came his way for three summers. He saved every dime. He was now 18 and straddled a new 1980 Harley Roadster. He took one last look of home and throttled down the empty country road with the sun to his back.
He had enough cash to last few months of sleeping under stars and bridges, but beyond that he had nothing particular in mind.
Twenty years and two engines later Zack pulled up to the same farm house on the same lonely road. He wondered how much had changed and how much stayed the same. One thing was certain; much had happened in the intervening years and his return home was by no means going to be less eventful than his twenty year adventure.
Zack walked through the door as if he just left yesterday. The aroma of home cooking filled the air. His mother stood at the stove in the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom,” Zack said. “I went out for a ride and just got home.”
She quickly dropped the spoon in a pan of soup on the stove and rushed to the doorway between the kitchen and dinning room. She looked at Zack with longing eyes and a puckered face, “Where have you been, my son?”