I have recently found myself on the back of a motorcycle. It’s one of those things you either do, or don’t do. Most of my life I didn’t. When kurbis first asked me to go, I was kinda hoping for rain. He was so excited, I was so scared. I have friends that ride. I have dated men who ride. I have an aunt who has her own bike. It just wasn’t me. I don’t have a problem with motorcycles, I just never pictured myself on the back of one.
As I was getting ready to go, my anxiety was at an all time high. I called my sister and said I love you twice. I readjusted my helmet three times. My palms were sweaty. In my head, I couldn’t even fathom how I was going to get on this thing, or why you ride a motorcycle when you have a perfectly good Lexus in the driveway.
The first challenge was just getting on. I have this weird right left thing going on. I am right-handed, but the left side of my body is much stronger, so it makes coordination a bit of an effort. I also have very short legs, they are only the length of my arms. Lastly, I am fat. These three factors combined with a tall bike and bad nerves = EPIC FAIL.
Miracle of miracles, I got on the bike. For the first ten minutes, I just concentrated on not throwing up all over him. We went over a bridge and it was absolutely stunning. The next ride was even better than the first. Now I would venture to say I am comfortable. I am not buying chaps or anything but it’s nice.
When on the bike I can’t resist stretching my arms out like a kid and letting the wind push them back. I fight the urge to scream against the wind, and overall I feel pretty free. What I have learned is I notice everything more. When not in the bubble of the car, everything seems a little brighter. When on the back of a motorcycle, Life is really about the journey and not the destination. I may not me a part of the whole thing, but I get how it brings people together.
And that my friends, was a pretty cool adventure.