I’m tired of sitting on the back...I want to drive.
You know, sometimes it really stinks being a woman with some of the
stigma that comes with it, like not being able to do “manly things.”
That is how I grew up: a child of parents who were of the 50’s era,
where a girl was supposed to be a young lady. She was to sit in a chair
and cross her ankles and do whatever she was told. My mother was of a
generation of women who were much more strict than those of my own era.
That’s all fine and dandy—until now. Now I have a little girl of my own
to teach and mold into becoming the best person she can be in this
world without being afraid to be herself.
I’ve wanted a motorcycle for as long I can remember. To drive it along
roads and highways with that feeling of being a free spirit—in control,
going wherever I decide to turn. No matter if the road was too far or
short or very bumpy. A motorcycle for me to go wherever my soul desired
to roam.
It’s sort of an analogy: the motorcycle is “life,” and I’m steering the
way, along the highways, bi-ways, state roads, and dirt roads. (We
don’t tell my mom about the dirt roads.) Gassing up, checking the oil,
replacing the tires and giving it a tune-up. Yep, that’s the same stuff
we ourselves go through each and every day in this circle of life.
Some of us join motorcycle clubs or ride with the same friends year
after year. It’s that feeling of camaraderie. Everyone knows that you
can’t pick your family—you’re born into that “gang.” Those of you who
have bikes know the point I am making here—the unspoken knowledge of
being “in.” What is shared? The answer is, of course, the common
interest of motorcycling and the ideas of how to make motorcycling
better. It’s the freedom to choose whether to belong. To be in control
of where you are going as you steer along that road. Every bike is
different, just like we are different from one another; some of us are
louder than others but we all have the same goal—to drive the bike.
Through hardships and valuable learning experiences I am yet to have my
own bike. I have always been on the back, sitting on the passenger
seat, watching the world pass me by while someone else drives. My
daughter knows how desperate the desire to own my own bike; whenever
she sees one she informs me. Last weekend she said that maybe I can
pick one out when I get to heaven. Oh, baby, I’m not waiting that long!
(I’ll be here for a while. Remember those few dirt roads?) I’m done
with that whole scene of sitting on the back holding on to someone
else. Don’t get me wrong—it was fun and I learned a great deal on all
of those journeys. But now… It’s my turn to drive.
To my little girl: Honey, keep your fingers crossed! It’s all going to
change. Believe it! I’m going to take you for a ride one day. Then
after you get the feeling, you can get your own bike and ride with me.
I'll be keeping my fingers crossed, too.
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An update. I finally did it! At 42 years old. The best part of it was my daughter looked up and said, "I'm gonna do it, too, Mommy." Dreams are attainable-no matter where you are in life. It may not always be the perfect dream, but a dream is worth living out. 
