Late one evening, relaxed in the lounge of his house in the countryside, Billy Potter reached for a sip of Whiskey when suddenly the roaring noise of a motor bike engine appeared to be hurtling down his front driveway.
Living in a remote woodland area of Canada, and unacustomed to visitors, he jogged up to the front lounge window and peeked through the curtains to notice a tall female biker dismounting her Harley, then marching up to the front door.
Half puzzled and half worried, he walked up to answer the front door, expecting the impending ring of the bell. Three large thumps echoed off the door into the hallway, and gulping the lump in his throat he drew back the bolt on the door and opened it slightly ajar, wondering what the biker girl wanted.
Living in a remote woodland area of Canada, and unacustomed to visitors, he jogged up to the front lounge window and peeked through the curtains to notice a tall female biker dismounting her Harley, then marching up to the front door.
Half puzzled and half worried, he walked up to answer the front door, expecting the impending ring of the bell. Three large thumps echoed off the door into the hallway, and gulping the lump in his throat he drew back the bolt on the door and opened it slightly ajar, wondering what the biker girl wanted.