The real rush didn't come from dancing or singing in front of thousand of people. The real rush didn't come from running from crazed fans. The real rush didn't come from fame and fortune. It came from the ultimate freedom.
Motorcycles.
Motorcycles were James Diamond's biggest passion ever since he was little. His father used to ride. As soon as James could walk he would scramble to the window just in time to see his daddy race off to parts unknown. When he was nine, he was finally big enough to accompany his father on the back of the bike.
He could remember his first ride like t was yesterday. He was afraid at first. He was sure he would fall off and his father wouldn't hear his screams over the engine. He held on the his father's waist for dear life. But after the first few minutes he loosened up. He stared up at the world around him. He was so close to earth, but at the same time he was sure he was flying. He smiled as the wind came at him full force. That's when James knew he was in love.
The day that James turned sixteen he got his motorcycle permit. The day after that, he held the license in his hands. Most kids wanted to drive, but not James. He never had a desire to drive. He wanted to ride. And that was that.
He loved everything about it. He loved the whip of the wind and the adrenaline that coursed through his veins whenever he went speeding down some empty road in The Middle of Nowhere, California. He loved feeling like no one and nothing could touch him. Once he got on that bike, he became invincible. He loved being in control of his own life, knowing that one mistake could leave him dead. It made the ride all the more exciting.
His friends all hated his love for riding. They would beg him to stop, telling him how dangerous it was. But James refused. His bike was who he was. It was his portal to his own world where nothing and no one existed. He wouldn't give that up for anyone or anything. So everyday after a long day at the studio he would hop on his Kawasaki Ninja and take off, Logan whispering a quiet prayer as he went.
This was what he loved. This was who he was. He decided that someday he'd be old and gray, cruising down the streets on his motorcycle. He'd never give up what he loved.
So it made sense that he was to die doing something that he loved so much. One night after an autograph session that had ended up running late he jumped on his big and began his journey home, just like any other night. It was dark and James was ready to speed on through a green light. However, a car that was making a left hand turn didn't notice James on his jet black bike and black helmet. The car smashed into him full force, hurling him off the bike. He died instantly.
They decided to bury him with the key to his bike in the pocket of the dark suit he wore. They knew he'd have wanted to take that with him. Because everyone knew that James Diamond would never give up something that he loved so deeply. He'd never give up what made him, him.