WHY A MOTORCYCLE ???

When exactly do we realize our mortality? Surely it isn't in our teens when we are going to live forever as "super" beings. We are pretty certain in our twenties that we have the world by the tail. Energy flows from every pore and we test our limits daily. Thirty brings on the first scary thought that we might be susceptible to aging. Even though we still feel fine , just the word "thirty" smudges the images of youth. Forty however gives us a reprieve for we reach such mental stability then that we are sure there will be a cure for old age long before we really have to face it. Besides, we feel really good. Fifty is still good though there is a hint of urgency. We can pretty much do what we always did though our interests are a bit tamer. Then Sixty hits.


With my "sixty" came a diagnosis of cancer. At first I pretty much wrapped myself in the cold blanket of doom. Then days passed and I didn't. With each morning that I awoke and with each treatment that worked, I was able to shrug off that cold blanket. Pretty soon I was just living again and enjoying each day. One thing did become permanent though and that was the realization that if I had some dreams yet to fulfill, I'd best get cracking. Procrastination had to be stricken from my vocabulary. I started my bucket list.


I bought a computer and started clicking keys. I bought a kayak and started paddling, then I bought a camera and started snapping. Can't tell you when it hit but it hit hard. I wanted a motorcycle. That "want" ranked right up there with my childhood want of a horse. The romance of the open road, wind in your face(that is a pure hype if you wear all the helmet gear) and sense of freedom, became very powerful. I thought of little else. I had only been a passenger on a bike several times, never in control. Perhaps that was the real lure at that time in my life, being in control.



Not Dixie but could be her twin.


Having no idea how to ride, I bought a lightly used,1986 Red Honda Rebel which is a small but smart looking bike. Dixie,as I named her for she was too small and delicate for a guy name, wasn't even running but gosh she was pretty with really low miles. OK guys,I can hear your heads shaking over that last comment.

I am short legged and she fit perfectly. Must admit that I did a bit of sitting on her in the barn "VAROOMING." When that got old rather quickly, I trailered her to a bike shop. The owner had a sufficient number of tattoos to make me feel confident in his abilities so I left her. While she was in the hospital, I signed up for a Motorcycle Safety Course. Can't begin to tell you how excited I was.

I thought I would be in a class with a bunch of teenagers but surprisingly, I was not the oldest and the average student was in their 40's. My instructor was about my age. I will say right here, I have never seen anyone sit a bike like he did. His posture was impeccable. He made Chips guys look slovenly.

The bikes provided by the course were small 250's like mine. This was wonderful for me as they were the same size as Dixie, but brutal on a poor fellow student who was well over six feet. Sometimes his knees actually got in the way of his steering.

I was concentrating so hard on my turn that I did not know our class pictures were being taken.

Our class room was an abandoned shopping mall parking lot. It was early August in Florida and we were required to wear jeans, long sleeved shirts, gloves, above ankle boots and helmets. That would have been tough enough but we were also straddling engines that put out a bit of heat on their own. The heat was brutal and our deodorants usually never made it till noon.

I did well except for one exercise. When we practiced sharp, controlled turns, I would slow down so much that the bike started lurching and bucking like a crazed horse. They always yelled, "Speed up" but I could not make myself do it. I got to see what I looked like for another lady, much younger than I, had the same problem. Watching her was painful and she eventually quit the program in tears. I will give the class credit here, no one laughed, though it was funny enough looking.

Truthfully I had no idea I would pass the course as I never solved the bucking. I did pass, though I did not feel particularly good for I learned they never failed anyone. You pay your money, you get your license. However, I was no where near road ready. As our instructors said, we were now only qualified to ride in vacant parking lots. Fortunately I lived in a quite large 5 acre ranchettes subdivision. That was where I got my legs. I practiced and practiced, then practiced some more. Pure determined diligence got me road ready.

My first venture on a highway, nestled amongst the semis, was the most thrilling and terrifying thing I have ever done. Florida's straight as string roads with heavy, fast moving traffic are not the best for biking. Semis have a real appetite for bikes.

Moving to Arkansas was a blessing. Traffic here is minimal to nonexistent, the views are breathtaking, and the curvy roads are just plain fun. When weather is nice, the roads are humming with bikes. Also there are a lot of codgers on bikes. I am obviously not the only old soul with a bucket list.

I happily rode my little bike for 5 years. One day I had a scare when a sudden blast of wind forced my light weight bike right into the opposite lane. No, nothing was coming, but what if something had been? Just like that, my confidence was shaken and I wasn't able to get it back. I was almost 70 so I decided to sell Dixie. I felt perhaps I had pushed my luck long enough.

Luckily, she went to a good home. A mid fiftish woman who had just had her heart broken by a con man, bought her and rode her gently into the night. It was a perfect match. Dixie was given the best of care, was not ridden hard, and she gave that woman back her feeling of being in control. A real win/win. I have seen her new owner occasionally over the veggie racks while shopping. I saw her go from a heads down, mumbling person to someone with a bit of a strut. Atta girl Dixie.

I don't regret one minute I spent in biker mode. The thrills were plenty and fortunately I never laid her down. No bones were snapped and no skin grafts required. We had a grand affair.

Anything you have done that was maybe age inappropriate or perhaps a bit stupid but you don't regret?