Do Overs

 DO OVERS

Something everyone alive has wished could happen. Well, I'm one of the lucky ones[mmm, Lover Boy]. This weekend I have the opportunity to redeem myself in my own eyes.

Now comes the long story part... sort of... I'm of the Easy Rider generation. We saw ourselves as footloose and fancy free. Right. That lasted until baby number one showed up on the scene. My very first motorcycle ride was on the back of a "chopper". I learned later the owner of said chopper was an active member of the Hell's Angels. I was sufficiently terrified and put any ideas of being a motorcycle mama on the back burner - the one in the frozen part of hell.

Life progressed at the usual pace and when I met my current husband, I discovered he was a HUGE motorcycle fan; specifically Harley Davidson's. During the first ten years of our marriage, we worked and struggled as most Americans do on a daily basis. We had lots of friends who rode Harleys but the time (and money) just wasn't available for us to indulge.

Then... the door opened and opportunity knocked. We answered. I was working two jobs to save enough money for my husband to purchase his motorcycle; he had given up buying one to buy me a Corvette. It was only fair. In July 2006, we brought home our 1993 Heritage Softtail and the love affair began all over for me. It took some hesitant attempts at first, but in a matter of months, I was riding the backseat of the bike as if I'd been born on a motorcycle.

The story progresses to us moving back to be near the children and grandchildren in the Northwest.  When we lived in the California desert, we rode in 100+ temperatures as well as below freezing temperatures. (Nothing quite like a toy run with three layers of clothing on to keep from losing something to frostbite.)

We were beginning to notice my husband having some issues with his hands and feet. A doctor's visit gave us the bad news--three kinds of arthritis including rheumatoid arthritis and gout; incurable and debilitating. We'd traded the Softtail for an Electra Glide:a big cruiser bike with the capability of traveling to California and back without any problems and comfortably. Well, I'd become fond of riding the motorcycle and, with the encroaching pain and swelling my husband was experiencing in his hands, feet and hips, I wasn't ready to give up riding. So, I reasoned, the most logical step was to take a riding course and get my endorsement.

Now, I've never been the driver of a motorcycle, and I have to admit I'm a bit of a sissy la-la when it comes to learning new things. But this was important. I took the class and passed the written test--but flunked the riding portion miserably. Basically they told me, I shouldn't even get near the front end of a motorcycle.

First I got upset and stomped my feet saying I would NEVER EVER ride again. Then I put on my big girl chaps and purchased a small motorcycle so I could learn. I wasn't going to let this defeat me and  be one of those ladies who waits for someone to offer them a 'pity' ride, oh no. I took tiny baby steps, learning to ride around a parking lot for several months.

Finally, after an accident where me and my bike were attacked by gravel on the road in which I broke an arm, blacked an eye, suffered minimal road rash and black-and-blued my legs from the knees down, I learned to drive my motorcycle. I rode my bike to work and back, round trip of 32 miles. And one day, I quit going over the route in my head. My reactions took over, and I fell in love with being in control of the motorcycle instead of it controlling me.

Now the Do Over. This weekend I'm taking the riding course again. I hope my time on the bike will come through for me, and I'll pass both parts of the test. If you hear whooping and hollering on Sunday around 3:00 pm PST, you'll know I did it. Wish me luck!