I WANT MY OWN MOTORCYCLE


Yes we do

Yes we do

It’s true. Finally, at this late stage in my life, I want one. My hubs and I went for a long bike ride on his Harley after we left all the Easter celebrations with family and friends. It was so beautiful and quiet (except for the roar of the souped up tail pipes he accessorized his bike with. Hey, they all do it.). We enjoyed awesome scenery, fabulous smells of spring flowers, new wheat in the fields, even the murky smells of the occasional swamp. It was all lovely.

Ok, I have tried to make it known that I am no stranger to riding motorcycles but the hubs doesn’t take me seriously. My family rode bikes when I was a kid. My parents did, my brother did, all the G.I.s my dad brought home from work did. We would meet in a pasture behind our house in Austin, Texas (now it’s a housing development) and ride through all the dips and pits and cow manure. Mom was a short, red, plump woman and looked a bit like a tomato, but she loved to ride too. Bless her heart, I can still see her zooming across the wild terrain with her boobs about to explode out of her bras, yes bras, as she tried to keep them corralled by wearing more than one, poor thing. I’m sure she was embarrassed. I wasn’t. I wanted to be just like her. That gal could ride. Anyway, my point is that I grew up riding. To be honest, most of my riding was on the back of the motorcycle. But there was a time when I could handle a dirt bike. That was fun, but unfortunately I was a bit timid. I remember hearing someone remark “she had that thing going and then just gave up!” I don’t know why, but by the time I got that dirt bike going good, I always backed off. What on earth was I afraid of – falling, breaking my face, getting dirty? Who knows.

Back to the motorcycle ride with the hubs yesterday. I believe that the love of that ride triggered something in me that makes me want my own bike. He has been trying to convince me that I need one for a long time. I have been telling him that I like sitting behind him with my arms around him when we ride. And that’s true, but I woke up this morning remembering the good times I had as a kid trying to impress everyone that I could do it but not being sure I really could.

Well, now I am sure. I know I can do it. I’m older, wiser, free-er, happier, smarter. I know riding the back roads are safer than riding the highways, and a lot more fun. I have no problem with wearing more than one bra if the going gets rough, and the bits and pieces of gray hair blowing in the wind from under my full-face helmet do not bother me. Support hose will help keep my ankles from swelling. I can equip myself with a light-weight back brace if I need to. I have prescription sun glasses and body lotion with sun screen. I can do this. I want my own motorcycle.

the older I get

Don’t forget to pray for peace, people. Oh – and if you don’t mind – pray for me too!

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