Exceptional story and writing style. Please leave all comments on his site.
Greg was driving and we were going full blast on Lake Shore Drive in Chicago, going south, on a powerful motorcycle, a Kawasaki 1200 I think. It was a beautiful night and just the beginning of it. Greg was a tall black man, and he was a hell of a car mechanic.
In Chicago, I had landed at the edge of Pilsen, by Halsted and 18th, in a neighborhood where there were hardly any blacks to be seen. I was a French wetback but it didn’t take me long to see that this black guy was driving around in a Jaguar, or a BMW, or a Porsche or whatever and also driving powerful motorcycles and what not.
I mean, I could tell a car from a boat.
View original post 2,484 more words