The city from my view.

A pulse on a vibrant Megalopolis.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann Final Episode

With laser precision, Campy almost instinctively knew where the bridge was and at the right moment signaled to Vic to slow down.  The road turned out to be a turnout with a purpose. The waterfall was near the road and the bridge made of wood. For when there was a heavy run-off, the bridge was flushed with water, perhaps even to the point of a wash-out. The cul-de-sac was for someone to park and use the gate made of bright yellow metal pipe to swing out and block access to the bridge. It was better than what Campy had hoped for.

Vic saw immediately what Campy had in mind. Both men placed their bikes out of sight and with a large rock, smashed the lock holding the chain that held back the swinging gate. They maneuvered the gate across the road and held it in place with the same chain. Then, as they heard the last two remaining cars careening around corners behind them,  looked for a place to hide from sight.

One of the cars sounded as if it hit something, there was a screech of metal along with the squeal of tires on pavement. But after that there was still the sound of more than one car fast approaching. Not sure, Campy tried to think of where they might be when suddenly he heard the careening of tires only this time it was there and it was both cars sliding sideways in a desperate attempt from hitting the guard rail.

As the cars slid and came into  the view, inside the leading car was the faces of Jean Claude and the Contesta de Claude. A look of real fear frozen on their faces. The driver was sheer white and stiff, realizing as milliseconds passed,  the inevitable. 

The  cars collided against their sides, they slid with the weight of both vehicles, gun toting thugs and the de Claudes screaming insults at them. They hit the metal rail and caused sparks to fly as the vehicles tumbled to edge of the precipice and with one last look at the Contesta and her son clawing at the door both cars tumbled over the edge and down the side of the waterfall hundreds of feet in height to the craggy rocks below.

There was an eerie silence, even the birds of the forest stopped. Girlymann and Vic walked to the edge and looked. There, at the bottom of the gorge was a tangled wreck of metal. There was no movement save for the water from the fall splashing on the black metal heap below. The men turned and moved the gate back into a  position, securing it again with the chain. Then the two picked up their bikes, dusted off their clothes and started down the hill in silence, saying nothing between them until Campy looked at Vic and Vic did the same. Then a big smile came across the faces of both of them.

The ride into the valley was exhilarating fresh from their pursuit, they felt the cool forest air against their faces and the thrill of speed on their bikes without having to peddle much.  The forest gave way to oak and bay then in the foothills of the mountains, vineyards came with small country farms nestled here and there.

In the first village they went through, the people stared in disbelief of the two famous cyclists enjoying a leisurely  ride. "Where are the de Claudes and their bandit henchmen?" They asked each other. Then the cry went out and sent like a lightening streak ahead, that the de Claudes were no more.

Floweres were tossed, Champagne sprayed on the two bikers on their ride to the city and the townspeople who would carry the two to a podium to receive the key to the city and a celebration party that would last three days and three nights.

The End.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann Final Episodes

Campy took a quick look at Vic to see how bad he was hit. His helmet took the brunt of the bullet but there was a trickle of blood running down the side of the domestic's face. The crest was near, not too far. Still the cars were behind them but because of the steep climb they too had a hard time as well.

"Vic, push it man, give it all you got!"

They did and when the crest came up and eased their labor, they both sucked in air and with sped up their bikes, quickly shifting gears and gaining speed to tuck in and become as air-streamed as they could. They heard the cars crest but now they had distance between them once again, their speed with the decent, gained quicker by the second.

They were going thirty then fifty miles an hour down the crest of the mountain and banking in each curve, something the cars had difficulty with. And they knew it too for now the vehicles in hot pursuit realized their mistake and the squeals of their tires sounded like sirens at each curve. Campy was keen on curves and downhill racing. The domestic was safely tucked in behind him in the vortex of Campy's draft. The automobiles, with their weight and inability to bank in the curves were at a disadvantage and Girlymann knew it. With a smile on his face he decided to taunt them.

Raising up he caught the wind and it slowed their speed down, just enough to give the men in the cars the idea that they could catch them. In one sharp corner, the screech of tires ended in a crash and  car one of the cars going over an embankment. That left two a bit wiser.

Girlymann knew he had only the mountain to give him a chance. Once on the flats, they would be dead ducks. But at the moment the two reveled in their power over the gun toting thugs on their tail. The thugs had backed off enough to make the curves but at the cost of slowly falling behind. It was a cat and mouse game and they did not want to be the losers.

Campy Girlymann scoured the countryside on their fast decent. With each curve, his gaze would canvas for something ahead he could use, some kind of advantage.  The thick forest gave way, here and there for a mountain stream or waterfall. In some gorges, a bridge was used to cross over the water and at one, there was a dirt road that ran off to the side just before the bridge.

Campy was hoping that luck would be with him.  He signaled to Vic to keep his head up for a maneuver, with his target in mind, Campy lowered his body and tucked in to make himself as aerodynamic as he could. Their speed picked up. With Vic in the draft it made the slip stream even more powerful. They were going into curves at sixty-plus miles an hour. One slip, one mistake, flat, mechanical error could be the end of them without the bullies having fired a shot.

It was hair raising but with bravery, good biking skills and some luck, an experienced biker could practically fly in  a mountain decent. The thugs fell far behind and this forced them to speed up just to keep an eye on where the bikers were in the decent. It took them some time when they realized the distance the two were making on them but when they did it forced them to take chances too.

Campy was tracing the curves in his mind, not knowing this road brought its own dangers but he couldn't afford to overshoot the target. With Zen like determination, Campy pictured what he viewed from above to where they were at the moment. He knew in a few minutes, they should be at the bridge......


To be continued....

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann Final Episodes

The blood flowed from the flesh wound on Campy's arm. It ran down his side and splattered on the ground beneath the bike but Campy kept on.

"Vic! You okay?" He asked.

"I think so, but your arm is bleeding pretty bad."

"Never mind that, I'm okay." That's what Campy thought, but to make sure, while he rode, he took out his handkerchief and with his teeth to help him, tied off his arm just above the flesh wound.

He didn't falter in the climb and even seemed more determined than before to reach the summit before the cars caught them. Girlymann's heart though, so strong to pump his blood cycling, now worked against him. Even with the tourniquet, the pressure exerted by his heart forced the blood through the clamped off wound. It wasn't as bad as it was at first, but he was seeping blood every second through the crimson soaked handkerchief.

More shots rang out, some came close. The cars were now one curve behind the two cyclists. Each straightaway brought danger for the bikes and spurred them on as a whipped horse. The top came into view, one more curve, a short climb and the crest would be there's. If they could have a second more, A mere breath.

Then Vic cried out, "I'm hit."

To be continued.....

Monday, April 2, 2012

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann Final Episodes

Girlymann steadied an eye on the pack of black metal beasts. He knew they meant trouble and were quickly gaining on them. Campy and Vic picked up speed. They could see in the distance the pinnacle of the climb where the road went  between two colliding mountain tops.

"Let's go for it." Campy yelled.

And they did. Each man put as much muscle to the pedal that they could. Their bikes flew up the climb. It surprised those in the chase, for at first, they kept to the speed that would have had them near the cyclist.  But now, the cars had to speed up as well, trying to reach them before the cyclist reached the summit.

The road became steep and then very steep. Each turn was like climbing a spiral staircase, the curve  went almost straight up against the mountain's side making the boys take the curves wide. It added almost twice the time, though it took less energy. It gave an edge to the motorcars that gained distance every second that slipped by.

Campy knew what to do. But could the Belgian make it? He could,  thought Girlymann. And as he geared for battle. He forced his upper body to relax, holding lightly to the bars and concentrated on getting as much oxygen in his lungs as he could. He would need that for the final push and when Vic saw what Campy was doing, immediately did the same. He instinctively, tucked in behind Campy and began to relax, taking deep breaths as they used only their legs to power the bikes.

It was cool from the altitude and helped the boys from overheating, Once Campy flushed his blood with oxygen he raised from the saddle and shifted gears. The bike responded by increasing the speed and as soon as he hit a curve, Campy settled in the seat and shifted again, to ease the steep climb.

Vic followed suit tucked in behind Campy. It helped. The cars too had to slow in the curves before gaining speed and though it made their pursuit harder, Campy could hear the strain on the gears of the automobiles become louder, like lions in pursuit, as he and Vic sweated and strained to put out more strength to save their necks.

The top was near, veiled with a mist that clung to the pine trees, it cooled the air and brought a stillness to the area. The only noise that could be heard were the breaths of men and roar of machines trying to catch them.

Girlymann could feel his legs tire but willed himself to stay his ground, his breathing grew heavy and he could hear the Belgian behind him.  He didn't know how long Vic could hang on. He didn't know how to help him either, other than hope the draft he gave the domestic was enough.

A shot rang out, followed by machine gun fire. The bullets ricochet off the sides of the mountain when they struck the hard granite around Campy and Vic. A little more, just a little further and they would be surrounded by the high clouds of the mountain's top. Just a little more, Campy thought when he felt the sting and saw blood drip from his arm.


To be continued......