by Luann Dawkins

Created on: September 23, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

Why do I ride a motorcycle? How do you answer that question for someone who has never ridden a motorcycle? I am, after all, a woman. We aren't supposed to be able to handle such a contraption, right? If truth is known, I can't actually pilot one yet, but my husband Keith is building me a chopper that will fit my short stature, so in the meantime I ride with him. We just returned from a ride and as he was navigating the highway, I pondered this very question.

I find myself acutely aware of my surroundings when we are on a weekend trip or even a short jaunt. Every sense is intensified, sights, smells, touch and hearing are suddenly in overdrive. Keith rounded a corner and the landscape flattened out over a farm, and the sunset that laid across the horizon was one of the most spectacular sights I have ever seen. Fiery shades of orange, red and deep purple, swept over the trees that had become black silhouettes. Stunned into silence, I gazed at this sight, one that I have seen hundreds of times before, but never with such awe and gratitude.

Wind rushing thru your hair, the sky on fire, and sweet honey suckle whizzing by you, leaving you breathless, a ride like this can only be experienced. You are transported to a place of sheer freedom, where you can shed the worries of the day and simply feel alive. After long trips, when you stop for a break, your arms tingle and the hairs stand up on your forearms as if animated. Rain is even a pleasure for me, I don't mind the stinging drops on my face, or even the soaked clothes. I am exhilarated for the entire ride.

I have yet to learn to pilot, I am saving that privilege for my brother-in-law, Keith doesn't have the patience. But, the frame is almost ready and I have painstakingly designed the tank and fender, as well as made my own leather seat. Of course, it is a little girly for most bikers' tastes, but she suits me fine. I'm not designing this bike, by anyone else's standards, this is strictly to please my need for the thrill, (but who says she can't be cute?).

When the day is done, and Keith is coming home from work, I sit expectantly awaiting this thrill. The following saying is fairly descriptive, unfortunately the author is unknown to me, or I would give credit for such an appropriate statement. "Only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of the car window." I believe I know why, and one day, in the not so distant future, I will have my very own chopper, and Keith and I will be able to ride side by side, truly free, truly alive, truly happy.

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