The Not-So-Badass Biker Babe

"Motorcycling is not, of itself, inherently dangerous. It is, however, extremely unforgiving of inattention, ignorance, incompetence, or stupidity." --www.Shinzoo.com

We stood at the back of the bike shop. "Try on these and tell me which one feels good,' my husband prompted, referring to the motorcycle helmets on display along the back wall of the shop. I picked up various helmets and put them on, some squishing my ears, others giving me the feeling of having a bowling ball attached to my head. I found a really cute black helmet with butterflies on it (Are helmets supposed to be cute?), but it had no face shield. All I could think about besides, "This will go with any outfit I'm wearing," was, "Hmmmmm. Picking bugs out of my teeth = SO unattractive!" Finally, I saw a lightweight red helmet (okay it came in various colors but RED was the ONE), with a snazzy little pull-down face shield that felt great on my head! "This one," I declared happily to my husband, then put it back on the shelf. "No, babe. If that one feels good, we're getting it," he said. "Today?" I asked hopefully. "Yep. Right now!" he affirmed. He took it to the sales counter for purchase, while I stood giddy next to him!

Two years ago when my husband retired from twenty-four years of service from the USAF, his retirement gift to himself was a Yamaha V Star 1300. He'd wanted a motorcycle since he was seventeen and it made me happy to see how much joy owning it gave him, although I admit I absolutely didn't get it. Except for a brief ride around our old neighborhood with him at about 15 mph, I'd never ridden on his bike and the appeal was completely lost on me. In fact, prior to Saturday, I'd only ridden on one other motorcycle. When I was little, my father took me for a ride on the back of his and my only real memory of that was burning my leg on the exhaust pipe and getting a blister he wouldn't let me pop. Now, with my new RED helmet in hand, I would be able to ride with my husband whenever and wherever he wished! That happened sooner than I expected!

We got home from running our errands and made dinner. Afterwards, my husband asked, "Are you ready?" "Yes, please," I said excitedly and headed to the stairs that led down to our garage. My husband stood, frowning down at my normal summer footwear. "No flip flops on the bike, lady," he told me. "Go put on sturdy shoes!" I ran upstairs to change my footwear without arguing (I know he was shocked, but hey, he's the expert...I know JACK about riding motorcycles). In the garage, he helped me adjust my helmet, I climbed on the bike behind him, held on tight, and off we went! I have never felt so physically open, vulnerable, exposed, terrified and excited in my entire life! Being a passenger on the back of a motorcycle on the open road is a tremendous act of trust, and I can count on one hand with fingers left over the number of people on this planet I trust that implicitly! We drove through the country roads of Tobaccoville, NC and up to King. My senses were hyper-aware of everything; changes in the temperature as we drove through geothermic pockets, the beauty of the sun setting, the smells out in the country, and the wind dancing against my damp skin! We stopped for a quick visit with my aunt and uncle who live in King, then drove home with the Super Moon, full and bright, magical and breath-taking, to keep us company. When we pulled into our driveway, I told my husband, "That was way too short!" He grinned at me! Sunday night he took me for a longer ride, our pit-stop being a Dair-O in King, where we got ice cream, sat out next to the bike, and ate it while the warm July sun set behind us. I'm not a badass. I like homemade peach ice cream, girlie things, snuggles, acts of kindness, babies, puppies, fireflies, rubber duckies, bubbles in my bath, red helmets, and motorcycle rides up back roads that smell like fresh-cut grass, cows, horses, pine trees, skunks, and honeysuckle. I may never be a badass, but I am now officially a biker babe! WooHoo!