The man with the bald head sat on the rumbling gray motorcycle, tension filling his eyes, one brown one green, their colors highlighted in the disappearing sun.  He was dressed in a tattered gray German army uniform with a silver Doppellitze, double braid insignia, accenting his collar.  His eyes searched the rolling field covered with moist green grass; fright apparent on his strained face.  He strapped the Nazi steel helmet on his head, the enemy always present.  Checking the gas tank between his legs for petrol, he revved the World War II BMW engine and raced off, dirt flying from a spinning rear tire. 

The man with the bald head sat on the rumbling gray motorcycle, tension filling his eyes, one brown one green, their colors highlighted in the disappearing sun.  He was dressed in a tattered gray German army uniform with a silver Doppellitze, double braid insignia, accenting his collar.  His eyes searched the rolling field covered with moist green grass; fright apparent on his strained face.  He strapped the Nazi steel helmet on his head, the enemy always present.  Checking the gas tank between his legs for petrol, he revved the World War II BMW engine and raced off, dirt flying from a spinning rear tire. 

The man raced through the occupied chalet blasting over the dirty cobblestone streets.  The checkpoint was manned and its gate down as he exploded through the wooden postern, scattering the Nazi jack-booted soldiers.  A highspeed chase began, with shots ringing out and side-car motorcycles pursuing the fleeing man through winding roads and across open fields.  Before him stood a low razor wire fence, obstructing his escape to the cloud covered horizon.  

The man skidded to a broadside stop and looked to the dogging stalkers behind.  Far ahead lay freedom, arrival blocked by a gentle grass covered berm flanking the obstructing fence. Shots struck the ground, ricocheting dirt up around the man.  Yelling and roaring motor-bikes could be heard and would soon be upon him.  He debated, his escape versus capture tormenting him.   With a blast of the motorbike, exhaust billowed from the pipes, tires spun, and the bike twisted ahead in a spray of dirt.  The cycle climbed the berm, the man stopped and visualized the barricaded fence.  Breathing heavily now, he unlatched and tossed his helmet in the direction of the gathering mob.    

Turning around he raced his motorcycle down to the foot of the knoll.  With his pursuers gathering around him he blasted away up the berm, taking flight and at the vertex, clearing the fence in a beautiful crest. He crashed down on the rear-tire, the bike zig-zagging crazily as the rider attempted to control the mechanical beast.  Shots rang out from the military group now stopping their pursuit at the fence.  The man lifted his front tire off of the dirt road in victory and sped away to safety.

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