One Last Ride – The Price of Speed

A short story –

The motorcycle engine roared like an angry beast chasing its prey. A black 600cc bike sped down the empty highway at no less than 100 mph, just past 11 PM.

Without hesitation, Matthew rode his motorcycle, chasing after a red bike ahead of him. He leaned down to reduce wind resistance at high speed, just like in MotoGP racing.

Matthew swerved right to avoid a truck in front of him, then quickly leaned left to dodge a white sedan.

“Dang, he’s fast,” Matthew muttered.

He pushed the throttle harder, speeding up to the bike’s limits.
His breath quickened.
His heart pounded, as if every inch of his body was being flooded with fresh blood.
His adrenaline surged —
The sensation he always craved when riding at full speed.

“Here we go!” Matthew shouted.

The road stretched straight ahead, and the red bike grew closer, now riding side by side.
Without hesitation, Matthew increased his RPM, leaving his rival behind — unable to keep up.

“Now, who’s the loser?!” he yelled.

But suddenly, a black sedan turned into the lane ahead of him. Though still some distance away, Matthew was riding so fast he had only seconds to react.

To his right: a long trailer truck.
To his left: a solid highway divider.
No choice but to hit the brakes.

“Daang… I’m not gonna make it…”

His breath caught. His eyes narrowed. His body tensed, as if bracing for something.
A devastating crash was inevitable.

And in that frozen moment, his memory rewound — to just five minutes before the chase began.

…

Matthew was riding casually on a road lined with orderly cars.
The cold autumn night pierced through his black jacket.

“Man, it’s freezing tonight.”

Up ahead, he spotted a red 600cc bike cruising calmly. Matthew caught up slowly, close enough to speak.

“Dude, wanna race?” Matthew asked.

“Nah, not in the mood, bro,” the red biker replied.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Hardly any traffic up ahead. It’s already late.” Matthew coaxed.

Still, the red rider refused.

Matthew revved his engine provocatively, letting it growl loud and wild.

When his potential rival still didn’t take the bait, Matthew pulled in front to block his lane, revving again and trying to spit smoke from his exhaust.

The red biker finally took the bait and pulled closer.

“Alright dude, this was your choice. You’ll regret it,” he warned, then blasted ahead.

“What?! Regret?” Matthew shouted back, gunning the throttle and chasing after him.

…

“Regret? Maybe… this is what he meant,” Matthew whispered — just before his bike slammed from behind into the black sedan.

His body was flung ten feet into the air and dragged nearly 300 feet.

It’s hard to imagine Matthew survived that night.

…