The following “letter” is part of the continuing series from the unpublished novel by James Garrett, “Benicia Letters Once More”. He does not plan to publish the book but instead is choosing to share the letters with the readers of the Benicia Herald. The letters continue the storyline of Garrett’s first novel “Benicia and Letters of Love”. Each “letter” tells of love in one of its many forms from a separate point of view. Benicia is represented prominently in the letters because of Garrett’s deep fondness for the city of Benicia. He hopes readers see themselves or others they know in the letters because the concept of “Love” is universal.

Dear Mr. Garrett,
My husband, Jack, used to ride motorcycles. He never wore a helmet, or goggles, or a leather jacket, but he rode motorcycles. I knew that when I started going out with him. Things like that didn’t go unnoticed in the Benicia of the late 1960s.
When we dated he always drove his car. He understood I was a little hesitant of riding motorcycles. He repeatedly asked if I would like to go for a motorcycle ride with him and I repeatedly said I didn’t think it would be a good idea.
One day I told him I would like to ride behind him on his motorcycle. I knew he loved riding the motorcycle, he had kept asking me to join him, and I wanted to please him.
We set a time for him to come by the next day. We rode all around Benicia. He never went too fast or did anything else foolish, and most of the time we didn’t talk. To be honest part of the time I was just snuggled up next to his back enjoying the feel of my arms around him.
Things went well until we approached the area under the Benicia-Martinez Bridge. The area has a curve and railroad tracks cross the road. At the time I didn’t know what happened, but I was suddenly flying through the air while still holding on to the love of my life. I noticed the motorcycle was heading off to the left and that I was riding Jack’s extended body like he was a flying carpet.
Later Jack told me the front wheel had gotten jammed in the slot between a rail and the asphalt. Jack said the quickness of what happened twisted the handlebars from his grip.
Our flight probably didn’t last more than two seconds, but it seemed longer. Then we hit the ground at the side of the road. Actually, Jack hit the road and I maintained my contact with him.
He asked if I was OK, and I said I was. He had a few scrapes, and his green nylon jacket had a torn right sleeve. I had a few abrasions. Other than those minor annoyances we were fine.
The bike had stopped on its own. We walked over to it and Jack got it upright and did something to it and it started right up. We got on and he drove me home. I squeezed him tighter on the ride back than I had the ride from my home.
When we got to my home, he again asked me if I was OK and said he was sorry for what happened. I told him everything was fine.
It was the only time I ever rode on a motorcycle. That ride was with the man who became my husband.
When he sold the motorcycle, he didn’t get as much for it as it was worth. I’m sure of that. He didn’t tell me he was selling the motorcycle. When I discovered what he had done, I asked why he had done it. Jack said he sold the motorcycle because he never again wanted to take the chance of doing something which might hurt me. Then he asked me to marry him.
Betty

James Garrett is a lifelong resident of Benicia and a former teacher at Benicia High School. He is the author of the following novels: “Benicia and Letters of Love,” “The Mansion Stories,” “Chief Salt,” and “One Great Season, 9-0!” He also compiled a three-volume work titled “The Golden Era: Benicia High School Football, The 1948 through 1960 Seasons, “A” History with Comments.”
He can be contacted at jgstoriesnpoetry@aol.com.

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