by Esther Elizabeth Suson
While we were passing through McDonald’s parking space on the way to Super 8, out of the corner of my eye I saw two men on motorcycles, sitting backwards. It looked so weird that I craned my head for a better view.
The motorcycles were perpendicular to each other, back to back. On one, its driver was sitting with legs dangling, helmet in his hands on the seat. On the other, its driver was sitting cross-legged, his hands empty. They were both laughing, and it took me a moment to realize that they had adopted their motorcycles as a living room and were calmly hanging out in the parking space of McDonald’s.