Monday, February 4, 2013


He bought His first motorcycle when He was fourteen. He saved the money and paid for it Himself. I think it was a Yamaha. He had the full get-up, helmut, shirt and pads. Everything was bright yellow and black. He even had a cap that looked like a cross between a tam and a beret. He lived in the foothills of the city, and His street bordered the high-line between paved streets and dirt trails. He could effectively ride to the end of His street and be in the dirt. The foothills had an infamous hill called "Molly's. The vertical climb was a little over 50 yards at an almost 60 degree incline. The other side dropped down at about an 80 degree angle (almost a straight drop). This was His pre-heicopter parent, fourteen year old playground.

In other words, He started on an unmonitored adrenaline diet at a fairly young and carefree age. His taste in bikes graduated as He grew older, and I am sure after a few tumbles He became a more cautious driver. When we were dating, and then when we were newly married we would ride for fun. No helmets. No boots. (I was scared of the exhaust pipe though so I always wore long pants, but I had plenty of bare ankles.) He was always a careful driver with me on the back. However, it is difficult to convince me that His early diet hadn't instilled a taste for speed and danger--and that He indulged in it when I wasn't looking.

I don't think it was right away, but pretty soon after we started our family I told Him I couldn't deal with Him riding a motorcycle. Kids do that to you. You begin to understand that you now answer to someone else-your children. You replace your wants with their needs. And what they need is a dad in one piece. So I demanded that He give up riding. I told Him that it was selfish to engage in such a dangerous past time at the expense of our security. I still don't understand the love affair between a guy and a motorcycle, but I think it may have to do with giving Him a sense of freedom. Maybe, for a few short miles, He feels like a carefree fourteen year old on a yellow Yamaha. He made excuses and He complained, but He gave it up. Thats it, He stopped doing something He loved.

He loved me more... more reason I love Him.      

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