I’ve answered why Henry, and why I named the bike at all, but why did I get a motorcycle to begin with? If you don’t ride, you might be thinking “mid-life crisis”. If you do ride, you probably think the obvious answer is “because it’s awesome”.
When I was an invincible immortal (translation: 4th-6th grade) I whipped around a homemade desert dirtbike track on the back of my friend Dawn’s dirtbike. She drove, I was too uncoordinated to kickstart the thing without flooding the engine. I think we wore helmets, not for safety, but because we thought they were cool. Then Dawn moved far enough away that we grew apart and found new friends because our parents didn’t want to drive us across town to visit every weekend. Thus ends my motorbike riding history.
A couple years ago a motorcycle passed me on a scenic highway and it was like reality was briefly parted in its wake and in the space left behind I thought ‘that looks like fun’ and had a wistful feeling of yearning to experience it. Then the fear rushed back in and I remembered all the reasons why I couldn’t, why I shouldn’t, why I wouldn’t. As far as I know, no one in my family has ever ridden a motorcycle. I was *cough* years old. I was a mom. I was <insert social stereotype here>, and suffering from the belief that I had to live up to some societal expectation applied to me by other people.
It wasn’t just social pressure keeping me off 2 wheels though. I was scared shitless. I’m a control freak. I hate high speed because it feels out of control. After the startling realization that I wanted to ride a motorcycle, it was a year before I started considering asking to ride with a friend. And ‘who do I ride with’ was a major consideration. I thought long and hard about who I trusted to be skilled and experienced, someone who wouldn’t be prone to testosterone fueled grandstanding and showing off that would either put me at risk or scare the crap out of me, and who had a bike that I would be comfortable riding. Magic 8 Ball says: all signs point to the office next door. That’s right. My coworker who has been riding 20+ years, who I knew would be understanding of my fears and take care of me, who rides a bike the size of a small sofa (not a crotch rocket that I’d have to cling on their back like a koala, but something with a back seat for <deity>’s sake, I couldn’t fall off if I tried). And still, pulling out of the parking garage the first ride, I was terrified. All that was running through my brain was ‘ohmygodohmygodohmygodwhatamidoingstopstopstopgetoffnow’. But by the time we got back to the office after lunch my cheeks hurt from smiling. I was still terrified the second, and third, and fourth time I rode passenger. But each time it got easier.
This year, my resolution was to live deliberately and not just drift through life doing what I’d always done, or what I thought I was supposed to do. To be fearless. To not waste time on the planet but actively seeking out new experiences. To figure out what makes me happy and do that. Which is all pie in the sky, but at the end of the year how would I know if I’d actually done it? I decided that in 2008 I wanted to learn to do two new things that I’d always wanted to do but hadn’t. One was learn to roller blade, which I did this summer. (I’m not great at it, but I haven’t fallen on my ass yet and I have a RETARDED amount of fun doing it). The second was to learn to ride and get my motorcycle endorsement. I have now done two things I wanted to do, but for whatever reason didn’t think I ever would, or could, do. And that makes me feel strong. And happy.
