Motorcycle Diaries: How I broke into riding
Heeding the whispers...
Oh hey there…
If my head gets turned, it’s not usually by a person, it’s by a bike.
In the movie Erin Brachovich, there’s a scene that has always stuck with me.
It’s a sunny, summer afternoon in the park and a bunch of families gather for a picnic.
In the distance, beyond the trees that line the ballfield, a hoard of long riders rumble by on their Harleys.
The camera cuts to Erin’s love interest, a biker-turned-stay-at-home-step-dad.
He stares at them longingly. The ache - the hunger - to be riding with them hides behind his eyes.
Something in me somehow recognized something in George.
I was only 12 when that movie came out.
My first bike was a vintage cafe racer - a 1970 Honda CB 200. I bought her for a thousand bucks because the front brake didn’t work and I had a friend who said he would help me fix it up in his garage-turned-motorcycle-shop.
I named her Irma.
About once a week for the next few months I would trek over to his place and work on different things that needed fixing. I didn’t know anything about motorcycle maintenance but my friend would lent his extensive years of knowledge and experience to the project. When he didn’t have time, I turned to the internet to figure out how to do smaller repairs.
Brakes fixed, sparkplugs replaced, carburetor cleaned and reassembled… we got her up and running and for about two months I rode her around North Portland feeling like an urban cowgirl with a whole world of freedom at my feet.
Unfortunately, I could never quite figure out the old wiring and the engine would die randomly at intersections or when I went too slow. This was too spooky for me as a newly-minted rider, so I decided to sell her hoping that the next person would have the time and know-how to really fix her up good.
But I was hooked.
Since selling Irma in 2018, it hasn’t made logistical sense to invest in a new bike because I’ve been bopping around the country and world too much.
Then two weeks ago, on a Monday andon a whim, I looked up Triumphs for sale on craigslist.
I don’t know what spurred it. And I don’t know how a Royal Enfield - a brand I’d never heard of before - popped up at the top of the queue instead.
Yet here was this barely-used retro-cruiser with only 2200 miles on it for an is-this-too-good-to-be-true pricepoint.
Tuesday I researched it.
Thursday I rode it.
Friday I bought it.
Two weeks later I took it out to the Dreamroll.
Before this past weekend, I hadn’t gone over 45 mph. Now I’ve not only cruised through the countryside at 70 mph but I’ve put over 200 miles on the odometer, and I can say without reservation that I am a lifer.
But the real reason I wanted to share this story is because I had wanted to ride motorcycles long before I ever got on one.
Maybe since that scene in that movie almost 22 years ago.
I avoided it because my mom was a rehab nurse. She worked with paralyzed folks, many of whom were injured in motorcycle accidents.
I was afraid I would be dishonoring her memory by doing something that so many see as unnecessarily reckless.
A while back though, I made a promise to myself that when presented with the chance to choose between love and fear, I would always choose love.
I would always choose the thing that awakened more life within me.
I vowed that I wouldn’t let fear, guilt, shame, or shoulds govern my choices. Not when I could help it.
I didn’t want my life to be decided for me based on what I was avoiding or what was uncomfortable to take on.
I wanted to be the true decision maker in my life.
I wanted to be a brave decision maker.
It takes bravery to build a life around joy, inspiration, justice, love, art, and the unkown in a world where most people build their lives around comfort and familiarity.
This promise seems to come back to me - almost like magic - when I notice I’m being apologetic or anxious. It helps me remember that I get to take up space, that I am not too much, and that I add unique value to the world.
I remember it when I feel alone and like there is no one there to guide my hand or show me the way. It spurs me to try things on my own even when the barrier to entry is daunting.
I remember it in the moments of my relationship when I am afraid of getting hurt again. It helps me come back to resilient open-heartedness and my desire to be a courageous devotee of healthy love.
And it just so happens to be a promise that helped me see that I don’t dishonor my mom by chasing open roads on a two-wheeled steed made for speed.
I honor her memory by being brave, by being my own person, and by listening to the quiet voice inside me that tells me there is incredible wonder on the other side of daring to do something that most people think is a tiny bit crazy.
Even if she disapproved, which I’m not certain she would have…
I think she would still be proud of me.
Because I’m proud of me.
Dive Deeper:
Are you interested in learning to ride a bike or scooter?
I’d highly recommend looking into weekend safety courses in your area. The bikes are lightweight and you learn how to ride in controlled conditions with teachers who have taught hundreds if not thousands of beginners before you. You also learn about road safety and local riding laws, and how they differ in other states. Plus, at the end you take a quiz and can walk away with a permit and/or your endorsement.
Extra Magic:
Maybe you have something you aren’t giving yourself permission to call your own.
Maybe you have claimed it and you needed this nudge to reprioritize it in your life and validate it in your own eyes.
Maybe your values and integrity have been calling you to look at something that has felt out of alignment and you could stand to observe that there is a wellspring of bravery within you that is waiting to be tapped.
Where can you choose courage over comfort? Bravery over fear? Love over worry?
Whatever it is, let this letter be a push to choose that which awakens more life within you.
Fear will build a much more boring life for you than I suspect your heart truly dreams of.
Choose the dream.
Invitations:
If you’re into podcasts, check out mine! It seems to be constantly changing and evolving, so knowing me the name will too. But even though it’s growing alongside me, it’s still pretty awesome!
Little Listy List of Noticing:
I am particularly fond of the crows in my neighborhood. They are distinctly intelligent and observant. One morning while sitting on my stooop eating cold, leftover pizza for breakfast (my fave!) I tossed a piece of black olive over to a crow nearby. This began my fantasy of befriending it with little gifts of my favorite snacks. So far, no progress has been made.
My first night at the Dreamroll this past weekend, I woke up around 4:00am and needed to hit the head. As I wound my way through the tents and motorcycles of almost 600 riders that lay between me and the bathroom, I found myself accompanied by a trail of gentle snores. Every few tents or so, a soft, nasal rumble would bubble up to mix with the other quiet sounds of the night. What a smile it brought to my face!
If you’re on IG, this particular thread made me chuckle quite a few times. It might be the first time (at least within memory) that reading the commet section has made me feel happier, rather than worse).
Vinny Thomas is a special brand of weird, hilarious, and brilliant that I can’t get enough of. Click hear to read the hysterical comments! I posited that Seattle is very bunny forward.
Take a phone-free walk today, yeah? Maybe even a couple. It feels real good.
