Maranda's fiance, Matt, has a Harley.
When I first started following Maranda around, I got the distinct impression that she wasn't too keen on the bike. She's certainly keen enough on her fiance, she'd just prefer to follow him in her car to whichever destination he's racing toward certain death. I actually think it's less fear of death and more hatred of wind, bugs, sitting still, boredom, etc.
As I got to know her, I began to be of the opinion that she looked at riding as Matt's thing, a way for them to maintain separate identities in their future shared life. He could have his Harley, his paintball and she could have her Harry Potter, art museums. They could continue to share their love of WOW and Renaissance festivals, etc.
I think it was easy for me to take this stance because I hadn't been on the back of a bike since I was very, very small and my great uncle Jack would take me around the block on his.
I've since been pretty apathetic toward bikers.
The noise has never bothered me, I've only witnessed one motorcycle accident, I simply have no opinion of this pasttime. It never had anything to do with me.
Until Scott came along.
I guess I'm not allowed to blog about Scott so I can't link to his page, but you can find him easy enough. If you do, don't let his adorable little Taylor Swift obsession scare you off. I'm pretty sure he likes me better. *crosses fingers* He simply has a better than average appreciation for hot girls in yellow.
Scott has a few man toys, his Harley being the newest. I actually found myself getting rather excited to be a passenger on the bike as the weather got warmer. The first time he took me out was to test out the sissy bar he'd just installed; I didn't have a helmet yet so it was brief.
That first spin around the neighborhood sold me. Even though I clenched my eyes closed as tightly as possible as the bike leaned further and further toward the ground around corners, it felt amazing. Giggle because you're a little bit scared amazing.
But I'm not scared anymore. Nope. I jump at every opportunity to straddle Scott (Bahahahaha!). There's no longer any need to close my eyes or hold my breath.
Last Saturday, we organized our first biker gang. I skipped the chain of command and called Matt to ask him if he wanted to go out. It didn't work, he handed the phone to the boss immediately. But she agreed, though I think she may have shot me a dirty look or 20 once we arrived at Matt's. So they called one of their friends, Scott called one of his and we went out in a gang of four.
It was a bit windy but that didn't steal from the perfection of it all in the least.
So, I have to make Maranda share the bike thing with Matt.
Because the open air and sun is glorious. Because I feel like I could sit back there with my arms around Scott for hours. Because it makes me laugh when he playfully ducks down and the wind smacks my face or he pretends my knee is an armrest. Because there are so many opportunities to smell freshly cut grass. Because when we're pulled over for a break and other bikers go by and wave, I get it. Because life is good on the back of a bike.
My mom used to ride with her ex and offered up her fringed leather vest. I declined. I'm not ready yet.
Maybe I will be by the end of summer.
And so might Maranda. Matt, undoubtedly, would think she's the hottest biker mama on the planet.
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