Biker Grandma

During my recent reunion-trip weekend, I surprised Jamie by informing her that riding on a motorcycle was not ever on my bucket list, so she made it her mission to encourage me to do so. I had no interest in hopping aboard, but I must say Jamie was quite persistent and also conscious of my concerns of going splat on the pavement outside her condo.

As she saw me waver away from a definite “no” toward a “just maybe,” she focused on assuring me that safety first was the top consideration. We would not venture onto any public roads. In fact, the plan was a single loop around the parking lot.

I postponed the decision as long as possible, thinking that just perhaps it would be fun. After all, riding a motorcycle is apparently so much fun that people in my state defy death every day by riding in shorts, flip flops, and without helmets (No, no, no for me!)

She finally broke my resistance and helped outfit me in a long sleeved super professional looking black biker jacket with a cute pink helmet. I climbed aboard the teeny weeny seat (not easy with my two-year-old hip) and grabbed ahold of my driver (Geoff) with a death grip.

I did not feel the least bit secure as I sat straight up but once I was told to lean into Geoff, I felt more protected from certain death. He started the engine, I squeezed tighter, and closed my eyes. We were off!

I felt a combination of fear and enjoyment. I worried about the turns, but I increased my hold on my son-in-law (I hope he understood) and was surprised that NOTHING BAD HAPPENED!  “Whee!!! Not so bad,” I thought as I rounded the bend.

As we approached the finish line, I thought that I was glad I had done it, but I have no desire to do it again. Incidentally, my poor old butt did not find the ride to be comfortable. I would rather have my big comfy seat, air conditioning, and the security of lots of steel to protect me!

I am one very cool grandma!

                                                   

 

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