Free An Obvious Fact by Craig Johnson

at high speed are weave and wobble, both occurring at more than eighty miles per hour and on dry pavement. Weave is a snakelike oscillation of the motorcycle around its center of mass. Usually confined to the rear of the bike, it doesn’t have much of an effect on the steering but does generally cause the bike to weave from side to side along the path of travel.”
    â€œAnd wobble?”
    â€œWobble is uncorrected weave, where it begins to affect the frame of the bike and then the steering axis. The transition from weave to wobble is about .02 seconds, and I don’t even think the great Henry Standing Bear has reflexes that quick.” He smiled at the Cheyenne Nation. “Once the wobble sets in, the motion becomes so severe that the rider loses control and the bike is slammed to the pavement, resulting in a totaled bike and a dead rider.”
    â€œFactors?”
    He palmed a chin and looked at me through the silver curtain, partially hiding eyes that had seen more vehicular mayhem than I would ever want to. “Weight distribution, center of aerodynamic pressure, tire inflation, tire size, tread shape and wear, and rider weight.”
    â€œHe’s not a large man.”
    â€œAnd the bike?”
    I paused for a second and then recited what Sheriff Engelhardt had said to me at the impound lot. “’09 Harley Cross Bones, springer front with a softail rear, and I have no idea what I just said.”
    â€œBig bike.”
    â€œIt looked big to me, but that just makes it a larger death trap. Can’t you just slow down?” I finished my beer as the other drinks arrived. “Um, does anybody have any money?”
    They both looked at me. “The gas station over here doesn’t take credit cards, and I had to use all my walking-around money to fill up Chief Nutter’s MRAP.”
    Mike studied me, pretty sure this was the most elaborate way of getting out of paying a check he’d ever heard. “A what?”
    The Cheyenne Nation handed me a fifty, which I transferred to the waitress. “Keep the tip.”
    Henry shook his head as I handed him his two glasses of wine and Mike his beer backups.
    â€œSo, can’t you just slow down?”
    â€œIt happens too fast, and at that speed most riders make the mistake of slamming on their brakes instead of redistributing their weight by transferring it from the saddle to the pegs. And add-on accessory boxes can change both the weightdistribution and the aerodynamics.” Mike glanced at me. “You saw the bike?”
    â€œI did, and I saw the kid, too.”
    Sticking to the subject at hand, he asked about the motorcycle. “Was it stock?”
    â€œHow the heck should I know?”
    â€œYou say it had the springer forks?” I looked at him blankly. “Did the front have a set of springs, kind of vintage looking?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œThose models can get out of tune and cause problems.”
    â€œThere’s something else . . .”
    â€œWere there any saddlebags on it, big ones?”
    â€œUm, no—but there was gold paint.”
    He looked at me. “What color is the bike?”
    â€œBlack.”
    â€œYou think somebody hit him?”
    â€œI can’t be sure, but I think you’d better take a look at the bike and then the car I’ve got on loan.”
    â€œWell, when I get down to Rapid, I’ll . . .”
    I pulled the phone from my pocket and handed it to him as he gave me a questioning look. “When did you start carrying a cell phone?”
    I pointed at Henry. “It’s his. I took pictures; well, Irl Engelhardt did.” I gestured toward the device. “I barely know how to take a photo.”
    â€œIt’s pretty easy to operate; you just hit the little icon that looks like a camera. Here, see?” He showed me and began swiping through the photos, finally glancing at the Bear. “Youmind if I send these to my