Day 713: 5 Minute Freewrite: Thursday - Prompt: dirt bike

It was just one of those things that most people do not know.

Henry Fitzhugh Lee had never even considered the difference between a dirt bike and a mountain bike until he was very nearly run over on an evening hike by a group of young people screaming around a curve in the Blue Ridge – the engines of dirt bikes had made enough noise to temporarily confuse him and to also give him time to dive out of the way as the dirt bikers passed by.

Captain Lee dived into a little opening into the ridge … and then had the surprise of finding out he was not alone, but another hiker had taken refuge just a few moments before him.

“You too, huh?” said a great bass voice out of a smiling ebony face.

“I do apologize for hurting you by landing on you,” the police captain said as he rolled off the other hiker.

“No harm done. I'm tougher than that, young man.”

The two men just watched until all the bikes had passed by, and then climbed out. The older Black man stuck out his hand to Captain Lee.

“I'm Thomas Jubilee, young man.”

“H.F. Lee, sir.”

They shook, and Mr. Jubilee smiled.

“Your grandfather must be Horace Fitzhugh Lee, and you must be the other H.F. – Henry, the beloved grandson.”

“Correct, sir. My beloved grandfather is known by practically everyone up here.”

“Practically,” said Mr. Jubilee. “And speaking of practically, do you know the difference between a mountain bike and a dirt bike?”

“Not really.”

“One has an engine that goes too fast and brakes that don't work well enough going downhill to deal with that hairpin curve a mile below us.”

“Oh, we have got to get moving!”

Sure enough, the dirt bikers had all gone over the side of the ridge, into Thornbush Gulley. Mr. Jubilee and Captain Lee were first to the scene, and first to be pulling thorns out of bikers' behinds ...