My Kind of Town
New love, true love
HPD solo bike officer Quinn Ah Sun had been against the move to the new BMWs. Cop bikes ought to be big, mean, rough, loud, intimidating. They ought to be Harleys. But then his major asked him to test one of the new machine out at Hawaii Raceway Park's road track. He aimed to prove it weak and worthless, and he drove it hard. Hard rights, hard lefts, hard acceleration, hard braking, all with serious G-loads.
What a surprise! What a machine! And it was so smooth with its car-type transmission, unlike the Harley's belt- or chain-drive, there were no vibrations. Zero. His okole appreciated it, amongst other body parts. At first he felt a little guilty, like he was leaving his high school sweetheart or something. But not for long, because he was head-over-heels in love with his new BMW. It wasn't a Beamer. It was a Boomer.
Quinn was headed to Zippy's for some tea and fruit -- no donuts for him -- and to work on his report of the incident involving the senator's car. Then his helmet radio crackled:
"Solo 27, we need you to get over to the Capitol immediately. The crowd at the rally for the hate crimes bill is getting larger than anyone anticipated."
"Roger. I'm at King and Kalakaua, and en route."
He whipped a quick right onto Kalakaua. Then another right on Kapiolani.
That's when he saw her, and his heart leaped.
She saw him too and smiled and waved as her teal Beamer went past in the opposite direction. He hadn't seen Lily in 21 years, then sees her twice in one morning. Or maybe they'd been seeing each other for years and not knowing it. All he knew was, he had to see her again. But right now all he could do was wave.
How could Lance Ah Sun ever find Greg? He'd told Lance that if he was coming to the rally, to meet at the Henry Moore sculpture by 11 o'clock. But traffic was ridiculous, and Lance hadn't expected this many people. If he wasn't so totally committed to his relationship with Greg, he'd have turned back because at the moment the Moore piece was surrounded by about 3,000 people and Lance was already 15 minutes late.
And part of Lance began to panic because Greg was probably thinking Lance didn't care enough to stand with him at the hate crimes bill rally. But part of Lance was growing calm. Loneliness, he'd heard, is the absence of your own kind. And now Lance was totally surrounded by his own kind.
>>Tomorrow: Seeing eye to eye
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin.
He can be emailed at firstname.lastname@example.org