Those last few words pass the hitchhiker by, but he hears “biker” and puts his lick-cleaned hands on the linoleum.

“It’s right there on the front page.”

Sure enough, the paper is plastered with a giant photo of a man who would appear to be the biker known simply as Nado. Though the driver and the hitchhiker had seen all three up close –much closer than they would wish- the picture is only vaguely recognizable. Its an official headshot, probably taken from a lineup. While Nado’s wild beard is there, cut slightly shorter, as well as his off-the-rails stare, the mimeographed print of black and white lends the figure a more historic, and thereby unreal, quality. It’s as if the photo was found at the back of a drawer while some academic researcher, far off in the 21st century or even later in this century, was compiling a dossier on criminal culture in the 1940s.

As we can see here, it was the mark of gang members such as this one to attempt an approximated air of barbarism through their unkempt looks and a wild-eyed stare. It proved effective in distinguishing themselves from benign, motorcycle hobbyists, but it is questionable to what extent this look actually served to intimidate rival gang members and the authorities.

The hitchhiker holds the flattened, though no less haunting, stare and can hear the prissy, egghead voice continue in this manner for quite some time. It jars with the very flat, matter-of-factual block letters of the headline.

Motorcycle Gang Leader Found Dead Along Route 6

Why does the hitchhiker feel such a flutter of glee rise up his throat from his ribcage, like a hummingbird inside come to life? It commingles with the rush of sugar from the muffin and the caffeine kick from the coffee, and the hitchhiker cannot sit on that stool for another eternal second. He grabs the paper, leaves a pocketful of change and runs back for the motel. Stranger than his thrill at learning that they actually finished off that son of a bitch biker, is his immediate desire to tell the driver. The shadow of a woman at the opposite end of the motel breaks the hitchhiker’s enthusiasm. It hobbles like no human ever has.