Solex Lady

This is the beginning of one of my many story ideas for a recurring character of mine that I wrote about five years ago and never published. Like most everything else I have attempted to write it is incomplete, but I share it here because it is appropriate for the spring season.

Solex Lady

By Cuirbouilli

A Vélosolex was a motorized bicycle.  A small motor was mounted above the front wheel and delivered power by means of a ceramic roller that spun against the tire.  The French manufacturer Solex marketed them to the public after World War II and they became tremendously popular throughout Europe during the 1950s and 1960s.  The Solex bicycle went out of production in 1988, but apparently the bikes had a cult following that persisted to the present day.

Chuck would call a Solex a moped.  He would never consider it to be a serious means of transportation.  If he took a tour through the countryside back home he would much rather do it in a car or at least on a motorcycle.  People rode bicycles for exercise and mopeds were for kids who couldn’t afford enough gas for a car.  

The idea of riding a motorized bicycle twenty miles just to look at flowers was not exactly his idea of a relaxing afternoon.  But, then again, he wasn’t Dutch.  Chuck was an American on a business trip in the Netherlands.  

Chuck was a fifty-one year old engineer who worked for an electrical equipment company in Bridgeport, Connecticut.  Several of the parts that his company used were manufactured at one particular factory in the Netherlands city of Rotterdam.  Chuck was head of his department and once or twice a year his company sent him to Rotterdam to help design new parts.  

His company paid for courses to teach him the Dutch language when he first started going years ago.  He actually learned more by simply talking to native speakers and over time he became fairly fluent.  He discovered that most people in the Netherlands spoke passably good English as well, but they were impressed that he could speak their own language.  That was part of the reason he was the only person his company ever sent over.   

Chuck didn’t mind traveling, although the excitement of it faded a while ago.  Often times he saw nothing but the airport, the factory, and his hotel room due to the limited time of his stay.  On the other hand, there were only so many windmills, castles, and marketplaces to see, and honestly they all looked about the same to him anyhow.  

His wife never went with him.  They would have to pay for her airfare, she didn’t like to fly, and she had absolutely no interest in seeing Europe.  Thus, most of the time he made the trip alone.  The folks he dealt with were very accommodating and arranged transportation, dinner reservations, and provided entertainment if the schedule allowed.  Sometimes he might argue that they were a bit too accommodating.  Today’s excursion would be a good example.  

The engineering department he was working with was going on a so-called “Free Your Mind Event” that Saturday afternoon.  It was a team-building event that was mandatory for company employees, but also meant to be fun.  

One of the engineers became sick with bronchitis and was unable to attend the booked event.  Chuck was stuck in Rotterdam until Monday evening due to a technical problem in manufacturing and had nothing in particular planned other than maybe some local sightseeing.  The other engineers encouraged him to come to the team-building event in their colleague’s place, assuring him that he would have a good time.  

When he pointed out that he would make an odd number they told him that a couple other people would probably join the tour and even out the group.  He reluctantly agreed to go along, although he actually had been looking forward to just relaxing in a cafe with a good book.  

The excursion for the day was something called a Solex Tour; a leisurely ride through the countryside on antique motorized bicycles.  It was the middle of April so the famous tulip gardens were in full bloom.  The route they were taking was supposedly quite scenic.  

The team-building aspect of the outing came once they reached their destination at a designated park.  Refreshments would be served and everyone in the group was supposed to take part in some brief sporting activity.  Then they continued on a route that led back to the starting point to return the bikes.

There were seven people in the group from the engineering department including Chuck; five men and two women.  The manager, a friendly fellow named Hans, picked Chuck up at the hotel.  They drove some distance outside of the city to a building that reminded Chuck of a police station.  

Their group met in the parking lot.  

Everyone except for Chuck took off their regular shoes and put on wooden klompen painted bright yellow with a matching design.  The manager presented Chuck with a pair of similarly painted wooden shoes to signify that he was part of the team.  Chuck thanked him for the shoes, but declined to wear them because they might aggravate his heel spurs.  At least that was the excuse he gave them to be polite.  In truth he wasn’t too sure about riding a bike in a pair of clunky wooden shoes.    

The group went inside the building to register.  A dozen black bicycles were parked inside a brick courtyard.  The vintage bikes were well-maintained.  They had a swan-neck frame with flat handlebars and metal wheel guards.  Aside from the small old-fashioned engines mounted above the front wheels, they kind of reminded Chuck of girls bicycles when he was a kid back in the 1960s.  

He was well aware that the distinction between masculine and feminine was often less rigid to Europeans than it was for Americans, but he soon learned why the Solex bikes did not have a horizontal crossbar.  

It was sunny, and about 52 degrees Fahrenheit and Chuck had worn a heavy windbreaker in anticipation of chilly weather.  He was not thrilled when he was informed that he would have to swap jackets for the ride.  There was a ritual costume for riding a Solex.  To get the full nostalgic effect everyone who took the tour had to don a long leather coat and an old fashioned motorcycle helmet.  

Upon entering the building their group was ushered into a large room that resembled a warehouse.  Four dozen brown and black leather coats hung on a long line of racks along one wall.  Most of them looked like old military coats and were quite weathered.   

Chuck found a helmet that fit his head and picked a dark brown, double-breasted leather trench coat with three rows of buttons.  Any luster the coat possessed had weathered away years ago.  He was too self conscious to wear a shiny black leather coat.

He pulled on his coat and belted it, catching a whiff of deodorizing spray.  He joined the rest of his group in the courtyard who tried to encourage him that the the tour would be fun.

Chuck was already aware of the bike-riding culture was extremely pervasive in the Netherlands.  Fashionable women in Dutch cities commonly rode bicycles to and from work in full-length leather coats, skirts, and heels.  It was something rather foreign to his conservative American experience.  

There was one more couple on the schedule who had not arrived yet.  The guide said they would be have to leave without them if they did not show up in the next five or ten minutes to keep the group on schedule.

At that very moment he heard the sound of a woman’s heels clicking on the flagstones outside the gate.

“Maybe that’s them now,” the guide said.

A striking young couple walked into the courtyard.  One glance at their outfits made it obvious that they were there for the tour.  The man and woman were both wearing long double-breasted black leather trench coats.  The dark-haired man carried two helmets by the straps in his right hand.  The lovely blonde who clung to his left arm tugged him enthusiastically as she spotted the group.

“You two look like you are ready for a solex tour!” the guide greeted them enthusiastically.

The man gave a curt nod to the affirmative.

“Yes!  We are!” the woman chirped.

The guide stepped forward, checking the names on his list.

“Let me see.  Are you Rogier and Nieske?” he asked aloud.  

“Indeed!” the woman exclaimed, releasing the man’s arm and bounding ahead.  

She presented herself in front of the guide with clip-clopping heels.  Her glossy leather coat was completely buttoned and belted with the notched collar rolled up high around her neck.  The vivid hue of her tulip-pink lipstick matched the color of the preppy shirt collar at her throat.  Polished black leather gloves and boots enclosed her hands and feet.  Her sleek figure gleamed in the sunlight, but it hardly outshined her sparkling blue eyes and golden blonde hair.  

She was a classy knockout to say the least.   

“I am Nieske.  How do you do?” she introduced herself.

She extended a tapered hand to him with a limp wrist.

“Very nice to meet you, Nieske.  I’m Jan Sykes,” the guide answered, clearly delighted by the vibrant lady.

He gingerly shook her shiny leather hand by the fingertips.

Chuck had been lingering in the back of the group, so he happened to be standing close enough to see and hear everything plainly.  

He had never heard the woman’s name before.  It sounded like they were saying “Neeska” which sounded like a brand of cookies to his American ears.  Since the name belonged to this particular woman, though, he was sure that the name was highly fashionable in the Netherlands.

“A pleasure Mr. Sykes, I’m sure,” Nieske responded with a dazzling smile.  

Jan’s eyes lingered on the stunning woman a moment longer before he cleared his throat and offered his hand to the large man who stepped beside her.  

“Glad to meet you Rogier.”

“Good afternoon mate,” the man replied with a stern grin and a visibly firm handshake.

Rogier towered over Jan.  He fit the mold of tall, dark, and handsome; as suitable match to the beautiful blonde.  His dark brown hair was gelled back in a style that instantly reminded Chuck of James Bond.  He was almost twice as broad as Nieske across the shoulders.  His athletic physique looked rather debonair in his cream button-down shirt and wool trousers.   

“We’re glad you could make it.  We were worried that maybe you weren’t coming,” Jan chuckled.

Rogier cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Nieske who covered her mouth prettily.

“Oh!  It is my fault that we were late!  Time forever escapes me!  You must forgive me if we delayed the tour!” Nieske exclaimed, pressing her hands over her chest.

“No problem at all,” Jan shrugged.

“You arrived just in time and you folks are already dressed for the ride!  Before we get started, though, I need to collect your fees and see your driver's licenses please.”

“Oh yes!  Did you bring my license, Rogier?” Nieske asked, raising her plucked eyebrows.     

“Of course.  I would certainly never expect you to remember it, Nieske,” Rogier answered.

“What would I ever do without you, love?” Nieske sighed.  

“Probably just find somebody else to look after you, that’s all,” he muttered in a dry tone.

“Oh, but nobody else would care for me as you do,” Nieske replied sweetly, stroking his thick, leather-clad arm with her small gloved hand.  

He held the two helmets he was carrying out to her.  She glanced down at them for a moment, as if not comprehending his unspoken request.   

“Will you please hold onto these for a moment, Nieske, so I can pay the man,” he asked patiently.

“Oh!  Yes my dear,” she responded with a start, snatching them from him.

The front of Rogier’s trench coat gapped open over his massive chest with the ends of the belt dangling along the sides.  It was of the same military cut as the Solex coat Chuck was wearing with a large notched collar, three rows of buttons, and simple utilitarian detailing.  However, the richly burnished black leather of Rogier’s coat was still supple and undamaged.  It was probably a modern garment designed in retro style.  

Rogier pushed the flap of his coat back with his right hand and reached into his pants pocket.  He pulled out a billfold.

“How much?” Rogier asked.

“The tour is 42,50 € per person,” Jan told him.  

Chuck didn’t realize it cost so much.  That was about fifty bucks!  Of course, the tour owners were probably required to carry some kind of liability insurance that figured into the price.  Regardless, Chuck was glad that the company paid his way as a business expense.

Rogier removed a 100 € note from his wallet and handed it to the guide.

“I should have change right here,” Jan said, reaching into his own pocket.

“That will not be necessary,” Nieske said, touching him lightly on the shoulder.

“Keep the difference as compensation for our late arrival.”  

Roger frowned, but said nothing.

“Thank you!” Jan exclaimed.

Nieske nodded and smiled benevolently.  

Rogier produced two licenses.

“Thank you sir,” Jan said.

He quickly inspected both cards and handed them back to Rogier.

“So how long have you two known each other?” Jan asked, apparently unable to resist probing the hot couple.

“Twenty years,” Rogier answered flatly, stuffing the billfold back into his pants pocket.

“Truly.  Though it seems like only yesterday that we met,” Nieske added.  

“Twenty years?  You two don’t look old enough to have been together for that long!  You must have met at university.  So how long have you been married?” Jan asked.

“We are not married,” Rogier rumbled, scowling as he fastened his coat up.   

Nieske gasped with an incredulous smile, glancing at Rogier.  She then pursed her full pink lips demurely.  

Leather creaked audibly as Rogier pulled his belt tightly through its buckle.

“We would thank you to conduct your tour now, if you please Mr. Sykes!” Nieske replied with commanding tact.

“Right,” Jan agreed, ducking his head with embarrassment as he quickly retreated back to his station in the brick building.      

Chuck assumed they were married as well.  They couldn’t be better matched.   

Nieske promptly handed the helmets back to Rogier as if they were too heavy for her to carry.  He took them and placed a hand on her back, gesturing toward the group.  They joined the others, briefly introducing themselves to everyone.

Rogier’s manner was reserved, but amiable enough.  Nieske was dignified and very gracious.  They were both a head taller than average, statuesque of build, and intimidatingly attractive.  The term “power couple” immediately came to mind.  They were the kind of people that inadvertently made everyone else feel insecure because they were outwardly the most perfect people present.  

The way they dressed said it all.  Everyone in the group was wearing a leather coat as a costume for the tour, but the Rogier and Nieske were stylish enough to actually have long leather trench coats in their own wardrobe.  Chuck would feel terribly conspicuous if caught in the leather coat he had on anywhere outside of the tour.  He suspected that Rogier and Nieske would go out to dinner in their leather coats that evening without a second thought.        

Rogier gave Chuck a polite nod as he passed by.

The man appeared to be in his early forties and absolutely at the height of his strength and faculties.  He was every bit of six-feet-four-inches tall.

Nieske stopped and offered her hand to Chuck, probably because he accidentally made direct eye contact with her.

Nieske was half-a-head shorter than Rogier, but still towered over the other women in the group.  She was an inch or two taller than Chuck, probably just shy of six-feet in her boots.  She was probably in her mid-thirties, but she could easily pass for mid-twenties if not for her poised demeanour.   

Her thick, lustrous blonde hair was pulled back neatly in French braids running along each side of her head and coiled at the nape of her neck.  There was not a strand out of place, nor did he suspect that there ever was.  

Nieske’s creamy complexion was smooth and radiant.  Her delicate features were unmistakably patrician with high cheekbones, a straight aquiline nose, and a chiseled jawline.  The exuberance in her bright blue eyes and the perpetual smile on her luscious pink lips made her a truly exquisite woman to behold.  

The collar of her black leather coat was very purposely rolled upward so that it splayed proudly around her graceful neck.  A pink blouse of crisp cotton stuck out of her coat lapels, open at the top two buttons.  A Nova check silk scarf puffed from her tall shirt collar, wrapped closely around her throat.

Nieske’s coat was not the second-hand, ill-fitting, weather-beaten garment issued to the rest of the tour group.  Nor was it a heavy motoring coat like Rogier wore.  Her coat was obviously quite luxurious and tailored in the finest smooth-grained leather.  It was not bulky and did nothing to conceal how spectacular her figure was.  The tie-belt gathered the supple leather into shiny creases that rippled about her prominent bosom and curvaceous hips, flattering her slender hourglass figure like a designer gown.   

Five rows of glittering, marbled buttons fastened the double-breasted placket of her coat, with the belt knotted between the second and third rows.  Two more buttons attached a storm flap on the front of each shoulder.  Her cuff straps and pocket flaps buttoned down as well.  

The black leather gloves on her elegant hands covered her wrists and melded seamlessly into her sleeves.  The polished black leather boots with stacked three-inch heels that encased her long, shapely legs were covered mid-calf by the flowing hem of her coat.  

Nieske was the portrait of sophistication.  She was undoubtedly a socialite from a good family, probably gentry with an ancient pedigree.  Such superior womanhood surely required countless centuries of noble breeding to produce.  Her refinement fascinated him and, admittedly, it turned him on more than a little. 

Nieske’s presence completely altered his outlook on the event.  He expected the Solex tour to be enjoyable and interesting, but memorable mostly as just another peculiar Dutch oddity.  Now that Nieske was riding with the group the trip was suddenly infinitely more exciting and even “cool” to be part of.