Five years ago I was helping my husband refurbish his 1986 Sportster. While we were pricing parts at our local Harley Davidson dealership, Colboch’s Harley Davidson in Morristown, Tennessee, I was trolling the new and used bikes. I had always wanted a motorcycle, but I had never quite gotten up the nerve to learn how to ride let alone get one. As I looked over the array of motorcycles I came upon a 2002 883 Sportster that someone had lovingly outfitted with an aftermarket seat and tank cover and some other cool accessories. I looked at the asking price did some math in my head and realized I could write a check and take that sweet little bike home. When my husband found me I asked him what he thought about the bike. Being clueless to my intentions he proclaimed it a nice looking little bike. Then I asked him, oh so innocently, could you ride it? I got the look then, you know the one, that male look of supreme confidence, as he declared; “Honey, I can ride any bike in here!” And click…the trap sprang and I nodded with a wide grin and clarified…”So if I write a check for this bike then you can ride it home?” In a pair of tennis shoes, shorts and tshirt and a helmet bought at the same time as the bike my beloved rode my motorcycle 30 miles home.
I had never ridden a motorcycle before and now I had one. My 16 year old son agreed to go to the motorcycle training course at Walters State with me and we signed up. The bikes at the training course were smaller and much lighter than my new Iron Horse. I was excited and nervous as I learned basic motorcycle safety and control. With my new license endorsement I was ready to start learning on the 883. It is not a big bike but it was huge to me and heavy. Finding my balance and controlling the bike were challenging to me. Patiently, my spouse helped me get started and helped me pick up the beast when I laid it down trying to make a turn or come to a stop at the top of the hill here on the farm. Finally I felt confident enough to try it on the country roads here.
So, I tell my husband I am going to ride out to the main road and make a lap going by the church and out to the highway and back. He looks at me and solemnly announces that one of his best friends died in a motorcycle accident on the road we live on. Ok…I will try to make it home. Next I want to venture out a little further from home and decide I will ride over to my eldest son’s. As I put on my leathers, half the fun of having and riding a Harley is wearing all the really cool riding leathers and knowing it’s practical gear not just dress up, and start for the door my sweetie hugs me tight and tells me “This guy I went to school with, he died in a motorcycle wreck on 66 there where you are going. He hit a dump truck head on…” O…K… I nod and promise to try and avoid all oncoming traffic. I am beginning to wonder if he knows anyone besides himself who has survived owning and riding a motorcycle. Needless to say I am still this side of heaven, and still riding my little bike.
My youngest son who got his motorcycle license when I did and my middle son also ride. The last 3 years we have gone on a Mother’s Day ride. Our first ride we visited Elrod Falls over the mountain towards Sneedville. My eldest rode with my second son and my youngest and I rode solo. Last year my two younger sons and I rode to Hot Springs North Carolina. This year due to work obligations my youngest son was the only one available to ride. We did a big lap through Greenville to Morristown. I look forward to this ride every year. I am blessed to have such wonderful sons too!
Riding has been a confidence building exercise in freedom. The feel of the wind at speed is an unexpected shock to the system the first time you experience it. Then it becomes a rush as you pull out and build speed. The world is rich in feel and smells. The smell of wildflowers and woods, fresh cut hay and rain moving in battle with the smells of rot and decay from road kill and the barnyard stink of farm animals and the smell of exhaust from traffic. The cool air, the heat of the sun, the rain…hey the rain hurts, stinging like pin pricks as you race along in the elements. I rode over Clinch Mountain in a thunderstorm once and as I battled the weather keeping steady and calm on the winding twisting road I was a participant in my life not an observer. Riding in a car, there is a barrier between you and the elements. Not so on the bike. Fully exposed and fully engaged, you meet the challenge and you come through the other side. There is nothing between you and the road but those oh so practical yet cool looking leathers. When I got off the mountain and made my way home I had water standing in my boots and not a dry stitch of clothes on and I was exhilarated. My heart was racing and my mind was full of wonder. I felt like I was on top of the world as laughter bubbled up and over. I felt so alive, every nerve ending popping, eyes seeing the world with an intense clarity, colors brighter, the light of the sun peaking through the clouds like a sunbeam from heaven itself.
Nothing we do in life that is worthwhile is without risk of some kind. When we always seek the safe path, when we avoid things out of a fear of failing or being hurt we deny ourselves the opportunity to stretch our minds and psyches beyond the mundane to touch the extraordinary. The simplest things offer profound insight when we are totally engaged. There are so many distractions these days, so many excuses to not even try, so many self proclaimed victims, that the mere act of just being who you are in the moment is becoming rare. Step away from the TV, put down the phone, don’t worry what everyone thinks says or does. Find a motorcycle and ride. It will liberate your mind.
MrsSmithsLifeUnexpected 