May 27, 2015

I met Bob, the love of my life, in August 1999. We were both living in Richmond, BC and we met through ICQ. I have always been the academic person: he had always been the practical genius. When we met he was building a Harley Evo rigid chopper. It was an interesting process to see those parts come together into what was to become The Excruciator. (I named the bike after riding on it once as a passenger. Riding with no shocks is no treat, believe me.)

Honestly? I loved the feeling of freedom, the wind in my face and the sensation of flying that motorcycles impart. I hated not having control. Bob had been riding and building motorcycles since he was a teenager and he was an excellent, safe driver. Nevertheless, I decided at the age of 52, to get my motorcycle license so I could ride my own. 

I took lessons with an accredited motorcycle school and passed the written and Stage 2 test (known as the Parkling Lot Test; the Motorcycle Skills Test or the Motorcycle Skills Assessment). I was now free to ride my own bike, a Honda Shadow 500, during daylight hours. Bob and I had a few awesome rides and I was at the point of gaining confidence riding solo. 

Then I dropped the bike! It was entirely my fault, I just wasn't paying attention to details. I was on crutches for more than 4 months just at the point where I was starting my Masters in Educational Technology. Doing your Masters degree is expensive and I sold my cute motorcycle. My job description (Special Ed Teacher) became more focused, my workload involved many hours of daytimejob work at home, and my tendons didn't really heal properly or quickly. Those were the excuses I used to cover my fear of getting back up on two wheels again!

A decade passed in a flash. I knew that the ravages of  that one quick accident would prevent me from ever riding a motorcycle with gears. The shifting (left foot) was just too painful so I looked into automatic choices and they were few. And my anxiety was growing with each year that passed.

Ultimately, Bob bought me the cutest 50cc scooter and I joined a local scooter club of like-minded afficionados. It took quite a few rides to get a grip on my ingrained nervousness but eventually I started to feel more condfident.

(This is "Pearl" my first little scoot.) Looks so small but represents overcoming fear of falling, fear of injury and just general anxieties. Bob was VERY proud of me!

My story has a bittersweet continuance. In January of this year, my Forever-Love passed away. He had been sick for a long time and his illness had prevented him from riding or even participating in any part of what would be called a normal life. He liked to say that when I was out on Pearl, filming rides around the neighbourhood, that he was living vicariously through my travels. 

I wanted to do something to really honour my husband's memory. I have published many poems relating to grief so that others may know that they are not alone even when their family ignores them during the Afterloss. Here is one of them:

Aside from publishing the musings of my heart, I wanted to do something that was NOT easy for me. So I sold Pearl and bought a larger scooter. I named her Bailey.

I am now retracing my steps of more than a decade ago. I passed the computer mc test and am right now practising the skills necessary for the MST/MSA license, Stage 2. I still suck at the "weave" (slalom) and am still nervouse about the quick stop from high speed. Street riding is easier so if I manage to pass the Stage 2 license I will immediately take the road test and finally be done with it.

Now I am a senior, retired person with nothing but time on my hands. Time to practice riding. Time to take long scoots around the neighbourhood. Time to reflect on a love now lost and another love (the allure of wind therapy) just beginning again for me.