Black and grey traditional style tattoo of a skeleton in a jacket riding a motorcycle across the forearm, with the handlebars gripped and a trailing shadow behind.

Skeleton rider on a motorcycle on a forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A skeleton wearing a jacket grips motorcycle handlebars, leaning forward with its grinning skull turned towards the viewer and a bright speed blur trailing behind. The design uses bold outlines with smooth grey shading on the jacket and skull, and highlights on the bones and handlebars. It is shown in black ink on a forearm against a plain black background.

Traditional Forearm Skeleton Skull Jacket

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody at the Cracken Hill garage liked to say what time the Norton came in. Tuesday, always, after the last bus had gone over the bridge, and always with the petrol gauge reading empty and the tank full. Dot Haverly swore she once saw the rider's gloves through the gap in the workshop shutter, bare bone where the knuckles should have been, but Dot also swore the kettle sang in Welsh, so I didn't put much weight on it.

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I had the job of tuning that machine for six winters. The handlebars were chromed hard enough to throw the lamp back at you, and the seat was cracked from a crash on the Gallows Road in 1938 that nobody would talk about. Every Tuesday I wheeled it out to the crossroads and left the key on the bench. By morning it was back in the yard, dew on the saddle, the speedometer needle stuck at a hundred and nine.

Last November I stayed late to see who was collecting it. A wind came down off the tops like a goods train. The rider walked out of the fog in a long leather coat that creaked when it moved, and he turned his grinning skull to me as though we shared a joke I had forgotten. He didn't say a word. He just tipped two fingers to the brim of nothing and kicked the engine over.

I still hear it on Tuesdays, out past the bridge, a long silver streak that never seems to reach the bend.