Heavy Biker Fiction

I saw the neighbor lady only a few times in the 5 years I lived at this new address.  She kept to herself.  The house she lived in was small, peeling paint, flowers coming up each year through the weeds that blocked the screened in porch.  The front sidewalk cracked.  American flag out front.  She didn't keep her car in the unattached garage, since you could see it was full of stuff and junk through the missing door window.  The other windows were covered with yellowed newsprint.  Recent high winds knocked down sticks and tree branches, and as I picked up the street and filled my old pickup box, the lady yelled . . . "Hey, Rich or Rick excuse me - could you take a few of these sticks to the dump too for me?"  I said, sure . . . and came over.  This was the closest I had been to her garage, then I noticed another little shed out back, door propped open . . . AND the front of a motorcycle wheel . . . a thin tire, a spool-type wheel.  Shiny steel fork legs . . . She was still talking, but I wasn't really listening - just focused as I moved a bit closer to aid my aging vision. I gathered sticks and made-my-way towards the open shed door.  I could see a large, old oil spot with dirt and leaves stuck to it.  The bike looked a dull gray color from years of dirt and dust.  A garden rake, a seed spreader.  I said, "I didn't know you rode motorcycles?"  She chirped, "I don't... Just on the back a few times.  You want to look at that bike, go look.  I could hear her . . . under her breath say, "I really need to clean out some crap, then louder; Maybe you'd be interested in that thing? I'm sick of trippin' over it." She knew(her name was Krystal) I rode a motorcycle.  She had that look to me riding by like I was wasting my time, sometimes giving me the "fingers in her ears" symbol.  You might like this one? Maybe not? Probably needs some tinkering?  I know it's a Harley, pretty sure, back when they didn't make them very good. I know it's loud, so you'd probably like that?  It don't run.  It broke or something. It was my oldest brother's bike, he shut it off here one Summer day, it didn't start.  He moved to Oregon, passed away 'bout a year later.  It's been 25 or 30 years ago.  I do have a pink slip paper of ownership, still with his name.  Tell you what Rich, you helped me today, you can have this if you want it? . .  heck, Go ahead, take it - drag it out if you want, don't get hurt. It's really Heavy.  "I need room for my new mower comin'."  It was as simple as that.  Then I woke up.  Shit.