(Chapter 0)

...And after so many hours of battle, only Mordred (from the enemy’s troop), the King Arthur and two of his knights, Gryfflet and Lucan, remain alive. King Arthur and Mordred were fated to kill each other: after the King put an end to his son’s life, he realized that he was also deadly wounded. 

There was only one thing he must do:  return Excalibur to the lake. The King requested Gryfflet to do it, and the young knight saw a prodigy: as he threw the sword, an arm emerged from the water and carried Excalibur into the depths.

After his last mission was fulfilled, King Arthur felt that he could rest in peace. He asked his knight to help him to get to the lake’s shore. There were a barge and several ladies waiting for the King. One of those ladies was Morgana, whose hatefulness had vanished. There was also the Lady of the Lake. 

Once Gryfflet helped the King to board, the ship left the shore and got lost among the mist that surrounded the hidden island of Avalon. According to the legend, Morgana cured Arthur’s wounds in Avalon hoping for the old prophecy (which assures that King Arthur will return to Britannia whenever its people needs him) to get accomplished...

It is a rainy day and I am trying to get to my apartment's street door, fighting against the pouring rain that soaked me, in spite of the short distance between the subway station and my apartment on Harlington Street.

I am shaking my umbrella by the entrance hall when I run into Mrs. Ernestine and that put me in a worse mood. I mean, I can not believe I had lost that sale a few hours ago. I need the money desperately, since I have so many debts. My divorce was too painful, and Deborah Curtis (my former wife) had became the sole owner of my possessions, included my old Bull Terrier. It sounds incredible but even my dog abandoned me when I moved to my new apartment and it preferred the backyard of my ex wife’s house.

While I am waiting for the elevator to come, I realize that there is a warning note on the wall: the elevator is out of order, which means the only way up is the damned staircase and the seven floors that separate the hall from my apartment. I get to my flat exhausted and nervous. I try to find the key, and as I open the door I bump into my mail: a bunch of bills claiming to be paid and advertising pamphlets … as if I could buy anything.

The stairway left me breathless, and as I take my raincoat off I think to my self that I should quit smoking. I remove my wet shoes and throw myself on one of my two chairs. I turn on the answer-machine. The first message lets me hear a metallic voice telling me that I must pay the last three phone bills or the Phone Company will cut off the service. 

The second message is from my boss, who wants me to go this very afternoon to Mr. Ferguson’s old mansion. This big house is placed too far away and I had never like appraisals, so I have always tried to avoid them. As I said before, it is not my best day, and I feel that my close encounter with Mrs. Ernestine caused this mishap.

As I turn on the stove and make myself some tea to warm me up, I wonder if I have a clean shirt left because I do not want to go to the laundry.

I drink the infusion without sugar, of course, because the sugar bowl is now the habitat of a disgusting group of cockroaches. I should take care of these things once and for all, but I do not feel like doing it.

I take my clothes off, hoping that a hot shower calms me down. As I feel the warm water pouring on my back I try to relax myself, but it is not easy because I am too stressed.

I would like to forget for a while that I must go so far away without a car to appraise that old house. That is why I decided to clean up the bathroom, what is more, I will get the floor dried and the old ceramic tiles.

I light on a cigarette, and while I am closing my apartment’s door I can hear that elevator is working again. I go down and get out of the building. The endless rain keeps falling down and I search in my guide for a bus line that takes me to the neighbourhood I am going to. I wonder why I did not look for this information at home instead of doing it in the middle of the street, under the rain. I feel like an idiot, or (according to my psychologist): "I sabotage my own life"…

I get off the bus and walk two long blocks to make the connection with the other bus that will take me to my final destination: Fullerton Road. I take a seat, I am so tired. While I watch the view from the bus window, I realize that my life went away as quickly as the streets and the houses that I see passing by before my eyes.

After a while, I arrive to the right address, where is the old house that I must appraise. I look at it from the corner and it is amazing. Its enormous windows and balconies are really outstanding. It also has chimneys, attics, and (above all) an attractive vane adorned with annoyed gargoyles. It is grandiose.

I search for the keys inside an envelope and I come closer to the main door, which is huge and very old as the lock. The key fits perfectly, so I rotate it and move the latch, the door creaks while I open it. I enter into a surprising hall, its size is overwhelming even though there are neither furniture nor ornaments in it. Two stairways lead to the upper floor, but I want to see this whole wing first. Fortunately, there are some lamps that light the place up.

I walk through the corridors thinking about its history and the people that walked through it until this very day, when the Sir Herald Ghillersmit’s heirs decided to put it for sale.

Endless corridors, galleries, living rooms, doors. All of a sudden, in one of those rooms, I am trying to turn the light on but my hand touches something rough (I do not know what it could be). I lean on the wall, after that I try to take a few steps and I feel the wooden floor ripping under my feet. I fall down.

I open my eyes after a while … I should have been faint. I think I am in some kind of basement. I can not see a thing, but I smell in the air the fine dust that I should risen when I fell. I try to stand up carefully, because my left leg and my shoulder hurt awfully. I am dirty and I have cobwebs all over my face. I try to remove them but there is no way to do it.

My eyes start getting used to the darkness. I hardly distinguish some furniture and I bump into a bench, so my leg’s pain is bigger now. I try to move across this place I have never been before, thinking about the things that happened to me since I woke up this morning … whatever.

I draw a heavy curtain and I can not believe what I am seeing, this is amazing. A fine ray of light that comes from a distant window reflecting an iridescent rainbow on the perfect edge of a beautiful sword covered by its sheath and the dust. I come closer to it, following a voice, I touch the sword and I feel an inner tremor. I fall on the floor, but I feel no ache, I am stronger than ever.

My right hand holds the sword so tight that it transmits things to me. My head begins to feel strange sensations and a thousand lightning explode vividly inside of me. I hear battle’s noises, screaming voices, I see fume and flames everywhere. I think I faint again, but the truth is that something really profound it is happening to me. I feel my brain is about to explode, I am all sweated.

My whole body trembles. I can see images and I know that somehow I have seem them before.

Suddenly, I have a magic feeling in my right hand. I am getting a magnificent and almost celestial power from the sword. My body is not shivering anymore and the perspiration stopped. I begin to understand the images that I saw. I am a chosen one. Among the fire and the lightning that furrow the stormy sky, a gigantic figure begins to be drawn, and I can not recognize it at first. I am going through a mystical experience. I hear bagpipes, prayers and thunders intermingled with images of great battles and terrible warriors.

The big image clears up. A giant with a long beard and terrifying eyes appears in front of me. We look eye to eye and I whisper a name: Merlin. Yes, he is Merlin. And I have Excalibur in my hands. I kneel down and pray. I keep on praying for a moment, and when I get up everything seems to be very calmed. I open my eyes and I can not believe what I see because it is hard to explain: a marvel that I ride right away, an alchemy’s prodigy … metal, bronze and fire. Every human’s dream.

It is right in front of me. While I am touching it, I feel that it have been mine for centuries, that I have been riding it forever. Between my legs I have the most wonderful machine that can exist, which could only belongs to a chosen one. Its structure is truly beautiful, as the dragon that stands out in its front, the handlebar like swords, the gasoline tank so precious and beautifully ornate, and its comfortable seat.

I have Excalibur sheathed, I am riding a powerful motorcycle, and there is a crazy idea in my head: Am I King Arthur? Am I him?

Elves and druids plotted to make this happen. And it is happening, because I am nothing but a weakly guy wearing a thick pair of glasses but I feel powerful, and my strength comes from my sword …

Nobody, anything can stop me. My arms had become a pair of powerful weapons, my whole body is a man- machine conjunction.

I start up the engine and its sound intermixes with my heartbeats. Strength and blood run together.

Now, everything makes sense. The world will know about our existence. We had to wait a thousand years for this symbiosis to happen and Excalibur chooses me.

Suddenly, there is a storm. In the black sky ghastly figures come to life. Even the Evilness had realized that Goodness and Justice have a warrior and his motorcycle to fight against it.

For those that harrow the law, we will be their jury and executioner, we will not give any truce. And the Evil that whips the humanity will feel my anger and my sword’s power. My steel steed will squash Evil’s skulls, and (although it takes time) the light of the Goodness will illuminate the earth. But … sad human reading these old sheets, that will be another story and I will tell you about it some other time.

I look in the saddlebags and I find some cheese and some wine. That is more than enough. The three of us are together, joined by magic. I close my eyes, trying to sleep. A new life will begin tomorrow.


(Eduardo Barrile) Grupo Custom Rosario


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La moto Excalibur de Daniel Echeverria Custom Art - Rosario - Santa Fe - Argentina -Copyright © 2003 - Esta página se actualizó por última vez el Martes, 25 de Octubre de 2016.

I welcome you, to the Excalibur site, a special horse of battles, created for the amusement of all people what wish to see it, and mine. Making a trip of 14 centuries, we could say that, more than motorcycle, is a personage that represent one of the nurtured legends in the world history that has given topic to infinitude books, movies and games. I thank you their visit and I invite you to rove this castle... I hope you enjoy. Moto Excalibur Bike Motorcycle Custom Rare strange Personalizada Rey Arturo King Arthur Sword Os doy la bienvenida cortesanos, a la página de MOTO EXCALIBUR. Un caballo de batallas especial, creado para el entretenimiento de todos los mortales que pueden acceder a verlo, y del mío propio. Haciendo un viaje de ida y vuelta recorriendo 14 siglos, podríamos decir que, más que una motocicleta, es un personaje que representa a una de las leyendas más nutridas de la historia mundial, que ha dado tema a infinidad de libros, películas y obras de teatro, para grandes y chicos. Os agradezco su visita, y os invito a recorrer las estancias de este castillo, que por supuesto... espero disfruteis. Daniel G. Echeverria ........ jesse james ... no ... vini ... no ... arlen ness ... no ... corbin ... menos ... lo hizo panza