Harley Davidson

"I got it under control , man ' he mumbled........................ At first , he sensed a warm pink/orange glow and his closed eyelids slowly peeled to reveal the yellow-white ceiling of his bedroom and a vague , but obnoxious, piercing beep-beep-beep to his left. As Colin 'Harley' Davidson casually rubber-stamped the edge of his left fist on the Snooze button , temples throbbing , dry mouthed and pulse trip-hammering from last nights pub exertions , a bolt of panic coursed down his neck.

"oh.....wait.....' a worried glance at the clock ' NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he yelled , as he leaped from the tousled bed covers , ' 8.20 , 8 FRIGGIN' 20 !!!! I'll never make it in time!' he exclaimed as he rushed out of the room soon returning from the world fastest face wash , tooth brushing , hair combing and call of nature in human history , wrenched the suit , shirt and tie from his wardrobe rail and hurriedly thrust each shirt sleeve and trouser leg with limbs. 8.21. BOLLOCKS!

As a fourth year student at Edinburgh University , Harley was well and truly disciplined in the student art of late awakening and rushing to morning lectures , the seductive lure of late nights and cheap beer at the student unions proving irresistible temptations for the promising architecture graduate. But not TODAY of all days , don't be late TODAY , his day of reckoning , his metamorphosis into fully fledged Batchelor of Design in Architecture with Honours all but complete. And the prize for this splendid feat - a chance to interview for a post grad scholarship in Architecture from the prestigious Bond University , Gold Coast , Australia! In exactly 38 minutes from now!!!

He lunged for the front door of his flat grabbing his keys , wallet , phone and interview folder as his flatmate and last night's fellow drinking reprobate , Glen 'Slug' McMillan , a highly intelligent if a bit too subdued counterpart , leaned against his bedroom doorframe , proffering Harley the tail end of a joint. Harley recoiled horrified by Slug's surreal gesture and spat ," Seriously , mate , its not even 8.30!'

And it wasn't , it was 8.25am and Harley bounded down the smooth concrete steps two and three at a time , down four levels to the entry door leading on to Bruntsfield Road. He could distantly hear Slug utter" hang on , mate , wait" as he rapidly descended but paradise beckoned and he ran to the bus stop as , over his shoulder , the number 3 bus service idly rumbled over the hill behind him about 400 yards away. The bus stop was 150 yards from his from door and he set off sprinting to the bus stop , cursing the damn alarm clock , cursing Slug and his 'one for the frog and toad' , and cursing his lack of athletics training which had garnered him the nickname. Bright shafts of sunlight glinted in his eyes as they reflected off the embankments of snow that had fallen through December so he shortened his stride to a brisk , heavy plod to avoid unnecessary slipping , falling and further concertina to todays events.

Arms pumping , legs driving , the bus stop loomed 20 yards ahead as he thrust his right arm out with the folder , frantically waving it up and down as the bus's tyres dispersed melted snow and glided easily past Harley. His breath stopped and a faint despairing groan escaped him as the bus sailed past but then relief rinsed through him as the orange left indicator light slowly winked and the maroon double decker began to angle towards the stop.

Harley bounded towards the step as the lever doors swivelled open and the driver bellowed ' Cutting it fine , pal!' as he subconsciously waved the student bus pass in his wallet window across the sensor on the drivers door , gasping for breath and whispered an earnest 'Thank You'. His chest heaved with the exertion and relief and trudged over to a vertical pole to hold on to as the bus heaved away from the stop. He didn't want to sit , too anxious , too adrenalised as he tried to collect his thoughts and compose himself for the interview. 

'Its fine , Harley , old son ,' he thought ' we'll make it.' It was fifteen minutes to the University and as he slid his wallet back into his left pocket he pulled out his phone , 8.34am , 26 minutes to showtime. Inhale 1,2,3,4 exhale 1,2,3,4 , just like training. As his heart began to settle to the same rhythm as the bus engine , he glanced right to the digital display on the ceiling above the driver cab and blinked to clear his eyes. As he strained to focus a sudden dizzying sensation engulfed him and nausea gripped his stomach - Edinburgh University 29 MINUTES!!!''

"Wh....wh....whaa-aat" , he uttered as the speaker announced 'We are now stopping at Bruntsfield Links , this is part of our reduced service today'

"Reduced?? What??' he moaned and looked up in horror - the normal route was now twice as long! Usually it would wind around the Georgian statuesque amphitheatre of Edinburgh's illustrious New Town , along a wide straight avenue to the East End of Princes Street and over North Bridge to head south all the way to Edinburgh University's Old College on South Bridge, but this revised revulsion included Haymarket , West End , Stockbridge , bloody Trinity!!!!!

Harley snapped out of his inner vortex , there was only one thing for it.

'STOP!' he yelled as the driver had to stamp on the brakes as he approached the upcoming bus stop and the bus skidded slightly as it ground to an angled halt. As he leapt from the bus he threw an obligatory 'Thanks , mate!' over his shoulder and caught the distressed frown of the driver. No time for apologies , he sprinted across the road back uphill slightly and slipped through the alley next to the Golf Tavern , the scene of last night's drunken debauchery. The alley opened into the splendour of The Meadows , gentle , hilly City Centre parklands dissected in the middle by Melville Drive , which Harley determined as the optimal running route to the University building.

Any ill effects from the night before vaporised as he channelled his focus and bounded along Melville Drive to South Clerk Street , where he would turn sharp left then sprint to South Bridge. He was going to make it , he could feel it now , billowing clouds of visible white breath plumed from his mouth with the effort as he locked in on the corner , his long black overcoat furling out behind him like a night vigilantes cape.

And then it happened, Firstly , he saw large black dots on a large white potato shape , then a red band of fabric at the base of the potato with a thin red cord leading up from it. Instinctively , he swiftly sidestepped the large potato and his footing deserted him on the slushy pavement. As his right leg became airborne, and his arm shot like arrows to the sky , he identified the dalmatian and its attractive , blonde owner , hands raised to her cheeks in fright.

For the second time today , the darkness must only have been momentary as a wet sensation on his mouth had Harley reminiscing of the pretty blonde dog owner until it dawned on him a woman wouldn't resuscitate him with a gentle large tongue. His eyes fluttered open and his mouth peeled back with a grimace as the dogs lead tightened , and a light voice instructed "Boston! Come here , Boston!" Obediently , the big dog relented and Harley saw 'Boston' engraved on the dog tag as he struggled to his feet.

Clumps of snow fell from the back of his coat as he slowly pulled himself up to standing , as he noticed the interview folder on the ground and documents splayed out in the snow. He scooped them up as the young lady claimed 'Your gonna kill yourself , running around like that!' Her tone softened , "Are you OK?'

He grinned and winced ,'Aye' and as he met her concerned gaze , ' Can I get your number?'

She frowned , bemused and Harley took off past her and the equally confused dog , resuming the mission. Surely nothing else could go wrong today. 

He didn't know how long he had been unconscious for but there was no noticeable sign of injury and his large strides closed the distance to the University gates which were now in sight. He pulled his phone out as he approached the tall , black wrought iron entrance. There was a diagonal crack across the screen and he saw the fleeting anger on his own face reflected as his eyes fell on the time. 8.55 . The anger dissolved. I made it , he thought but was suddenly aware of an eerie quiet in the wintry morning.  

Something was distinctly out of place , the grand entrance gates were padlocked , the courtyard within , deserted. And then it hit him like a javelin between the eyes - the quiet streets , the leisurely dog walker , the reduced bus service, Slug hollering behind him down the stairs................and he slowly looked down at his war weary phone screen at the detail under the time , when suddenly the screen lit up with the words, 'Incoming call' and in larger letters 'SLUG'.

Harley slid the green phone icon to accept and held the phone tiredly to his ear.

'Harley?"

'Hey , Spud'

Nervously,'Hey I tried to tell you......''

'I know , mate , I know' Harley cut in.'Its Sunday....... Its Sunday fckn Sunday'

Hey could hear a muffled laugh crackling on the other end.

Wearily Harley asked ,' What so funny?'

Spud paused then "Well ........... I bet you a night out at the pub that you'd be late for the interview , so..........technically............................'