by Rick Griffin
Copyright 2012-2014 Rick Griffin
Riley had taken the Harley. She left Razor the Dart.
The Dart was cramped. Razor was foolish to think she could get used to vehicles which were not bikes. Keeping her zebra mane straight in a stiff Mohawk was all the more difficult with a low ceiling. Her left arm, thick and laddered with black and white stripes, always pressed against the driver side door.
She'd taken to driving with the window open, but outside was New Mexico, coming up on summer. Even the Dart's A/C on full blast could barely keep up with the heat. She was used to the desert at this point, but the sheer amount of water she chugged made her woozy. Still, she was situated better than her old home in Chihuahua.
Razor wondered, as she drove back to the trailer park from the grocery, if she made the right choice.
"¡Hola!" A kid out in the yard of the passing trailers shouted as he saw Razor's clearly distinct form even behind the glare of the sun. The kid banged a broomstick between a pair of metal trash cans.
"¡Hola Javier!" Razor shouted back, smiling brightly at the human child and slowing the car to a stop. "What can I do for you? Did your family like the tamales? Please, tell your mother she does not have to repay me, I insist!"