The men in leather jackets
It was the same every evening. They rushed past our little house, screaming loudly, and then disappeared in the distance. I guess they were the type of motorcyclists who didn"t care neither for the rules nor for their own lives. The speed was incredible, and I must say that I was a bit afraid sometimes. What if my brother was driving home at the same time? What if one of those crazy guys did not manage to break in time? We were all irritated. My brother called the police several times, but all they could do was to limit the speed at the spot, which of course, didn"t change much. The crazy drivers had disappeared long before. A few days later, they appeared again. Two of them slowed for a minute, preparing for a race. We couldn"t see their faces, of course, they were behind the helmets. All we noticed were the black Leather Jackets and narrow pants. One of them turned his head a bit to the right, looking at me, screaming something I could not understand. I just stood there, with my angry eyes on him, wishing he could go. Of curse, I didn"t wish them any accidents, but that"s what they were going to experience if they didn"t change their ways. The men in the leather jackets disappeared from the area several weeks later. Perhaps the police finally caught them, or maybe it was out of pure boredom. Perhaps they simply found another place for themselves?