Learning to Ride

A few months ago I reluctantly listed my bike and sidecar - affectionately named "Nooner & Spank" - for sale in the sidecar community. I was really upset about it, but we needed the money for Audrey's adoption. I had lots of people who were interested but it was a really hard winter here. Every time someone wanted to come take a look we were having record low temperatures. Too cold to be standing around in the garage trying to start a bike that is too cold to start. In the end I never got them sold. I want to think its because God knew I was going to need my bike for a little bit of sanity this summer on the few days I'll be feeling good.

All the kids except Audrey got rides, (she is too small)  but we were most shocked to discover that Abel LOVES to ride! A year ago we couldn't even start the bikes with him around because he would panic. Now? Yeah, we've created a junkie! On his first ride we went several miles and he was in heaven so I decided to make a couple of stops to pick up some things. He was reluctant to get out, and while we were in the store he asked me about 100 times "More motorcycle please!"  Here is Abel, taking his very first ride.


Sadly, Asher does NOT like riding in the sidecar. I think its because he has such low muscle tone that the helmet is just too much for him. We had gone just a few blocks when we stopped at an intersection. I looked down at him and his lip was out and a tear running down his cheek. Poor baby! A couple days later he was asking for the motorcycle but we haven't tried it again. Maybe later this summer.

This year Axel is learning to ride being Dad! This is his first ever ride on the back of the bike. He loved it and rode really well. He'll be going with us lots this summer!

Perfect and Glorious Day!

There are two places I meet God. One is in the shower (this is strange, I know, but other mothers can identify, I'm sure!) I call the shower my prayer closet/decompression chamber. It's where I do my best thinking and praying. It's where I go to cry when things are tough. It's where God speaks to me. It's where I think of my best ideas! I think it's because its only one of two places where I'm completely ALONE! (well, most of the time, but I digress...)  My friends have often heard me start sentences with, "You know, I was in the shower this morning when I thought of something...." Even Dean says, "The shower is a good place for you."

The other place is on the my bike. The sights, the sounds, the smells, all while flying over the countryside...it's heaven to me! This morning I planned on spending the day riding with my in-laws. I arrived at their house with a big grin on my face. They asked where I wanted to ride to, "I don't even CARE! I just want to RIDE!"

It felt so good to ride! I've really missed my Nooner! (that's the name of my bike, for those who are new here!) It was a perfect and glorious day here in Minnesota. 70-75*, sunny and...just PERFECT! I did lots of praying on this ride, about all kinds of things. I even planned a couple of events!  Oh, and I redecorated the house AND Ianna's room! All in my head of course. How's that for a productive day?

This week we'll hook up Spank (that's Angela's sidecar) because Saturday is the annual "Ride for Wishes", which is probably THE BEST, and THE most organized ride we attend all summer. Not only that, but it's for an amazing cause! It's to raise funds for two or three specific Make A Wish recipients. Some of you may remember that Angela got to Make Her Wish two years ago. TWO YEARS AGO? Where did the time go? Anyway, I think I'm still coming down from the trip. LOL

So tonight I'll head to bed with my sunburned face....I KNOW, I KNOW! But you'll be happy to know my EYES are not sunburned, because I have a super lovely RACOON sunburn! HA! Maybe tomorrow I'll get a picture for you.

g'night everyone!

Angela's New Ride

Here's Angela, the coolest kid in the 5th grade, refusing to get out after her first ride. LOL


For those on reader, there's a video here.

Epic Journey

LET THE PREPARATIONS BEGIN! Yes, I'll be 41 years old this summer, and to celebrate it I'll be making an Epic Journey in June with some biker chick friends of mine. NO BOYS ALLOWED! LOL It's a fairly large group, and the ride is actually starting out somewhere in Ohio. (sorry, for the protection of the group I can't give specifics here) and will be traveling cross country to Central WI, then heading up through Duluth MN, then up into Canada. I'll be coming alone back down through WI and home again. I'll have several hundred miles that will be on my own, but the majority of it will be with the group. I cannot wait! This will be my first BIG RIDE...and EPIC RIDE! In the meantime, my bike is freezing out in the garage, but here's a picture of her and I together.

Goodbye Red

That's it. It's over. The riding season, that is. I know people who ride all winter and I will not hide the fact I think they're nuts. It is COLD riding this time of year! Yes, a person could spend a gazillion dollars on the RIGHT equipment for cold weather riding, but I'm not one of 'em. So, Red is put away for the winter. If I'm lucky the mice won't be making nests in my saddle bags while she waits it out. It's at least 5 whole months before I'll be on her again. Poor thing! Maybe she could hang out in our warm basement instead? It's quite cozy by the fire!

100 miles down Memory Lane

Note: most of the names, save 2, have been changed to protect the privacy of former friends and neighbors who probably don't even remember that I existed.

It started as an ordinary Saturday. Me running Angela to swimming, then dropping her off with her dad. On the way home I thought, "hmmm...an empty house, just me and the dogs...I think a nap is in order!"

I pulled in the driveway, parked the Tahoe and yawned in anticipation of my cozy bed. But as I walked past the closed garage door I heard it. The quietest of voices saying, "Hello. I'm here. Have you forgotten me?"

It was my bike. I realized what a glorious day it was outside. The sun was shining, and it was just plain pleasant, with an unusual temperature for October in MN of 70*. Suddenly I was no longer feeling nappy. Suddenly I was wanting to get on my bike and feel the wind in my hair again.

But where? Where would I ride to? I tried calling a couple in-laws who live nearby and ride, but they weren't home. (probably headed out early on their own ride!) When I ride alone I prefer to stick with roads I know, so I felt comfortable with my choice of riding out to the home where I grew up. The ride to Medina would take me through my old stomping grounds, and down twisty winding roads around Lake Minnetonka. PERFECT!

As I traveled the back roads of Wayzata I was reminded of long ago dates to the movie theater there, our high school hockey team's defeat of the Wayzata Trojans on their turf with all our faces painted in colors of the Orono Spartans. I could still feel the energy on that street. Ahhhhh...that was a fun night to remember.

Fernbrook Lane...thick with trees in yellows and oranges, most of it houses built by my Dad's company in the late 70's. There on the corner is the house of Lt. Mosh. I met him in my Army Reserve unit when I was 18 and had a huge crush on him. Hmmmm he was F-I-N-E!!! He was also way out of my league. LOL He was one of those "Wayzata Kids" who always seemed a bit stuck-up to me.

County Road 6...turn left. A beautiful country highway straight out of magazine. There's the house of the Chinese Dr. Once in High school I went to a party there. Well I intended to anyway. Just as my friends and I got there the cops crashed the party. Bummer! I'd heard there was an indoor pool and wanted to see for myself!

Tamarack Drive...Wow, the trees have grown so much you can barely see any of the houses. There's the house of Jim Lane, and just a few doors down is Ace's house. Jim and ACE were in some type of accident right out of high school, and I heard Jim's now a quadriplegic.

And the From's house. Their kids and I were in homeroom together in middle school when their mom committed suicide by driving her car into Lake Minnetonka. (A few year's later she'd be followed by the mother of another friend of mine.) They continued coming to school for several years, but those boys were never the same. I wish their Mom would have understood what her suicide would do to them.

Fortuna Farm...the place I spent years taking riding lessons. The buildings are quite a ways off the road, but but even from here they look run down. There are horses in the pastures, but the fences look barely able to contain them. Yep, there's a "For Sale" sign. That place will fetch a pretty price, I'm sure. 50 or so acres in horse country in today's market. I'm sure within a year the outbuildings will be gone and there will be a huge mansion in their place. I suddenly realize how far I am from my childhood home. A good 2 miles at least. I used to walk here every Saturday for my riding lesson. The roads only had 1/2 as many houses on them at the time, it was mostly just alphalfa fields. Wow, that's a long walk for a little girl!

A mile further...The Condon's...they were the first family I ever knew with 4 kids. Not only that, they were all girls. Their mom was of Spanish decent and the house was sorta 70's Spanish architecture. I loved going to that house! For one thing, they had a Shetland pony named Star who I could ride whenever I wanted. I loved their girls. By the time they moved in my brother and sister were getting ready to graduate high school, but I was only in 3rd grade or so. Their house was lively and full of girlie stuff. It's their mother who gave me the idea of a "Sunday Box" when I had my own kids. At the Condon's house, if you left something out, say your favorite Barbie or your diary, it got put into the Sunday box and you couldn't have it back until the following Sunday!

Medina Road...this is the road. There's the Brown's house. I never understood that place. Probably the most run down shack I'd ever known as a child, yet they owned what is now the biggest garbage company in the state. There was money there, but no evidence of it. They were also the kids I wasn't supposed to play with but I did anyway. Looking back I know why, but as a little girl I didn't understand.

Across the road is the Romfo house. Well, the driveway anyway. It's a very steep hill and the house sits far back out of sight. They had two boys, and I remember playing at their house all the time. They had a Boxer named Brutus and lots of horses. I played there all the time since for many years they were the only kids in the area my age. Shortly after I graduated from high school they sold the house. Only their teenage son forgot, and came "home" drunk from a party in the dead of winter and couldn't figure out why he couldn't get inside the vacant house. The next morning the new owner found him frozen in a snowbank. I heard he ended up loosing his hands and feet. Later I would babysit the kids of the new owners, and then the house burned down. The driveway still looks very vacant, and there is no mailbox, so I guess nobody rebuilt back there. (edited to add: I had most of this story correct. Here's article I found about Scott Romfo who was frozen to death and brought back to life.)

The Rasmussens...now THEY were people to get in trouble with! They had one girl and a few boys, all older than me, but I hung out with the daughter. I remember when her mom had a surprise pregnancy. She was VERY OLD..like FOURTY!!! LOL Funny how we perceive things as a child.

And just up the hill, there is our driveway. You used to be able to see the side of the house from the field, but the trees have all grown up. It's only been 6 years or so since Mom and Dad sold it, but I don't remember those trees being so full. I stop at the top of the driveway, suddenly aware that this might bother someone...a chick on a bike peering through the trees at the home below. It occurs to me that my impression of that house growing up was probably very different than of other people's. I remember going to the homes of some of my friends, like the Condon's, and being impressed by their houses. Yet here is the house I grew up in, that when my parents finally sold it was well over 6,000 square feet. I wonder what my friends and their parents thought of our house? To me it was just a house.

From here I can see the corner where I wiped out on my bike when I was 7, getting entangled and stuck until the Romfo's mom found my laying there sobbing, bloody and bruised. The same corner where I made friends for life with the Hind girls that moved there in the 5th grade, and moved away again in the 8th. I put my foot down on the driveway, the same driveway where I learned to ride my first two wheeler. This driveway where I stood every school morning for 12 years waiting for the bus that I can still smell.

Sadly, today I can't really see the house, the trees are still too thick with leaves. But I realized that while I set out to see THIS house, the memories I was searching for were in all the houses along the way. They were in the trees that hid my brother, sister and I as we threw tomatoes at cars. They were in the fields where I rode my horse first as young girl, then later as a teenager to visit my boyfriend. My memories were in the very twists and turns that my body still remembered. I was coming to see a house, but instead I found so much more.

"Red"

Here's a picture of "Red". It's not a great shot. The chick on the bike is fat and tired looking, and the bike needs a bath.

Follow the Little Red Light

It's Wednesday night, and that means ride night with the West Bank Motorcycle Club. I'm not a member of this club, but Dean and I ride with them on occasion. Tonight was the last Weds night ride of the season, and since I had a sitter (rare for me) I was determined to join them. Besides, I'm in a Sis Riders mileage contest this month and haven't hardly ridden at all. Dean wasn't able to go tonight, so this would be the first time I'd ride with the group without him, and I was a little nervous. I have no idea why, as the vast majority of my riding is done alone, (almost 6,000 miles this summer!) but once in awhile the old shy me comes out and I have to stuff her back and pretend she doesn't exist.

I'm always anxious to head out for a ride, itching to get in the saddle and go, and tonight was no different. Nobody in the club had seen my new bike, so while Angela entertained herself by forcing the dogs to run the agility equipment again and again, I gave Red a bath, making her chrome all shiny and clean. About the time I finished the sitter called and said she was home and I could drop off Angela any time. I was thrilled that for once the day's timing was in my favor.

The club meets at a small bar in south Minneapolis. As I headed north on Cedar Ave. I could see the dark ominous clouds ahead. I could still see the skyscrapers though, so I knew it wasn't raining there yet. I figured I'd at least get to the bar, say hello to everyone and then head home, but as I got under the cloud system it really was just cloudy. Slightly on the chilly side, but I was dressed for it so it wasn't a big deal.

When I got to the bar I learned the ride was headed west to the Mound area. Hmmm...west..I looked at the pitch black sky to the west, watching the system flicker with lightning. "That west?" Crap! Ok, I can figure this out. When the ride heads out I'll head for home. Now, I've always hated having to leave an event early, only to to later hear about the fun stories of things I missed. I decided to stick with the group, and if things started looking worse I could always split off and head for home. It sure sounded like a good plan at the time.

We saddled up,all 40 + bikes, me keeping to the back of the group, making it easier to split of if need be. We headed west through city side streets, the sky ahead of us getting darker by the minute, and the lightning getting bigger. I decided it was time to make my move, except there was one small problem. I had NO CLUE where I was! Again, not a big deal. Soon enough we'd get to a highway and I'd be able to get my bearings. Just as I thought that thought, the ride captain pulled us over. "Ride's off. Those who live to the west will still go that direction. Everyone else, if you want to sign in (the club members have to sign in to get ride credit) do it now." It was only 7:00 and pitch black!

Everyone made quick decisions as to what they were going to do. The vast majority chose to head for home. One guy, Milo, said he was headed back to the bar we'd just left, so I planned to follow him. At least from the bar I could find my way home.

My friend Tracy was on my left. We're really just good acquaintances, but she's one of my favorite people in the club. She said she was headed back to the bar too. As the group headed out, bikes were splitting off in several directions. Tracy and I pulled up to the stop sign together, realizing we'd already lost Milo in the darkness. Tracy said she knew how to get us back so I was good to go. As we sat a stop light a few big drops started to fall. I looked at Tracy and said, "So this is great. I've never ridden in the rain before."

Tracy plastered a frozen smile on her face. "Oh...well I guess you're gonna learn huh?" But the look on her face said, "Oh shit. This is NOT good, and here I am...the babysitter."

A few minutes later the wind started picking up, and the rain started to fall for real. Tracy hollered "We can stay on the side streets or go on the freeway. What are you more comfortable with?"

"I don't care! Either way we're wet so whatever you want is fine."

That was the wrong answer. "Ok, well follow me. If you don't feel safe and want to pull over just do it and I'll pull over too."

A few seconds later the rain started POURING down. I want to use the term "Torrential rain". When you're on a motorcycle and it rains like that, you cannot see A THING! The raindrops hit your face so hard you're sure it's hail. It runs down your face and into your eyes, making you want to close them, except that closing them means certain death. As I followed Tracy, she turned onto the I-94 entrance ramp. Oh...My..GOD we're going on the FREEWAY?? Suddenly the ice cold water running down the crack of my ass didn't matter anymore.

I gripped the handlebars a little tighter and watched Tracy's tail light speed off ahead of me. I tried to speed up, afraid that soon I'd feel my rear wheel slipping underneath me. I could her Tracy's voice in my head, "If you don't feel safe and want to pull over..." Man, I really wanted to pull over!!! But yeah, this is the freeway, and it's pitch black and raining. Not a good idea. So I sped up a little bit. Just a little....

I don't know how fast or slow we were going. It could have been 10 miles an hour or 50, I have no clue because was afraid to take my eyes of that little red light that was Tracy. I couldn't see the lines in the road. In fact, I couldn't see the road at all, just shiny blackness. I was thinking how glad I was we were in the right lane when a saw Tracy's yellow blinker as she moved over to the center lane. THE CENTER LANE!!! OMG...I was pretty sure I was going to end up on the news. I knew that Tracy was riding on the left side of the lane, so if I stayed staggered I'd accomplish 2 things. 1) my tire would be in the tracks of the cars ahead of us, giving me better traction instead of hydroplaning and 2) would keep me in the center lane without getting in the way of any cars that might be next to me. There COULD BE cars next to me, but to find out would mean taking my eyes off that little red light.

We went through the small tunnel and as we came out the other end the rain hit us like a brick wall. I realized that I'd been holding my breath for quite some time...probably like 10 minutes or something. I couldn't see so I tried ducking way down to look near the base of my windshield, but that did nothing except expose the skin on my back to the rain, causing even more cold water to rush down my ass. I tried looking over the rim of my glasses but that was bad too. There just wasn't any good way to see at all. I wondered how Tracy could possibly see to lead us.

There's her turn signal. HALLELLUIAH! We're getting off the freeway! This was wonderful, but posed a new problem at the same time. It's called "stopping". Stopping on wet pavement (and really, this was standing water) can be tricky. I concentrated on slow/even braking. We made a couple of turns and there was the bar. I wanted to kiss the ground but realized that would look silly. I didn't know if I was shaking from being cold and wet or from the adrenaline coursing through my body. We went inside to the bathroom where I called Dean to let him know I was alive. I was jabbering away telling him about our ride when he said, "Are you drunk? You sound drunk. I thought you just got there."

"No, I an not DRUNK! A bit shaken up maybe, and having an adrenaline rush, but I haven't even had a POP!" Getting drunk sounded good about that time, but not a very good idea since, when the storm blew over I'd have to get myself home.

We stayed about an hour then headed our separate directions. As I rode home on the wet roads I realized how thankful I was that Tracy was there for me tonight. Would any of the other riders have been as patient with me? Would they have gotten us back only to give me a hard time about being a newby?

As my riding skills have grown over the summer, God has seen to it that I've learned things one step at a time. He's given me Dean who is a great teacher and forces me to learn things without being mean about it. He put Tracy in my path tonight because he knew she'd be patient, kind and safe, but still making me learn this new skill of riding in the rain. She gave me just enough encouragement to press on, yet reminded me to ride my own ride, and pull over if I didn't feel safe. I know that if I had pulled over she would have sat it out with me.

Tonight I'm thankful for good friends, a safe ride, an open garage door when I got home, a hot shower, and His protection. Oh, and I'm thankful for little red tail lights!

The Gift of Riding Alone

I actually wrote this Mother's Day weekend, and it was published in the August edition of Biker Alley magazine.
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Almost a year ago I reached one of my "Before I turn 40" goals. I took a motorcycle safety class and earned my "M" on my driver's license. I think I unconsciously set this goal way back when I was a teenager and I rode behind my mom, but later as an adult and mother of 5 young kids myself it seemed an impossible goal. Then, at age 35, I found myself divorced and with every-other weekend to myself. I started dating again, and one of the "prerequisites" of anyone I dated was that, not only did he need to have a bike himself, but he needed to ride regularly as well. It never occurred to me to get my own!

One of the men I dated had a sport bike (aka crotch rocket) and I found I loved the speed and rush of adrenaline that came with the ride. I even contemplated owning one myself, but our relationship was short-lived and suddenly that particular type of bike didn't seem to fit me anymore. As any adrenaline junkie will tell you though, it's highly addictive. The goal was now firmly etched into my soul.

Then I met Dean. Not only did he ride a Harley, but his entire extended family did as well! Dean and I fit together like a hand and glove. We rode together on his bike like we'd been doing it all our lives. What Dean didn't know was that riding behind him was a woman who was starting to have issues. Control issues, that is.

Like most people, when I'm riding behind, I loose myself to my thoughts. (Ok, I have a tendency to sing because Dean can't hear me!) I can look at the scenery and just enjoy it. Once in awhile we can have a conversation, but usually in broken sentences, or bits and pieces at a stoplight. Mostly though, I'm just by myself on the back of the bike. If I really want to feel "connected" to him, I can put my arms around him, or give him a squeeze with my thighs. Sometimes he might reach back and put his hand on my lower leg (the only part of me he can reach.). Those actions, however simple they may seem, are very meaningful forms of communication when on a bike.

Unfortunately there came a time when I developed awareness for other things around us. I've always had a watchful eye for hazards when on the back of the bike, but it's not been 100% up to me, so I could slack off now and then. But one day, out of the blue, I became very nervous. It was like somewhere deep within me a switch was flipped, causing me to be hyper aware of everything. Does he see that car? That pothole? That gravel on the inside of the corner? How good is he at quick stops? My ears became aware of his shifting, both up and down, which meant I also noticed differences if there was a problem.

I thought it was just me being paranoid. That is until I started talking to women riders who told me, "That's how I knew it was time to get my own bike!" So I took their advice, and got my license just before my 40th birthday.

The first few times out, (once I got over the fear of our daunting driveway!) I went alone, sticking to side streets where 50 mph felt very fast! It didn't take me long to venture further, and on roads that had a 55 mph speed limit. My time is limited to ½ hr here and there squeezed in after household chores and while my daughter is still in school, but even so within a couple of weeks I was able to put a couple hundred miles on my bike.

One day, shortly after my daughter left for a weekend with her dad, Dean came home early so we could go for a ride. It was to be our "maiden voyage"; our first trip together on separate bikes. He decided we would ride to the home of his parents just 15 minutes away. "But we're taking the long way Honey. We're going on the freeway."

"The freeway? I've haven't done that yet and it's getting to be rush hour!"

His replied, every so calmly, "That's exactly why we're doing it. I don't want you alone the first time. It's only a mile or so of freeway. You'll be fine. So let's go!"

Suddenly I didn't want to go on this particular ride, but I wasn't about to let him see my fear either. After all, I do have control issues, and I'm highly competitive!

I quickly realized I needed a new goal, and it was keeping up with Dean. I knew he wouldn't go too fast for me, and I knew his ultimate goal was my safety, but I also knew if I did anything stupid, or showed fear, word would travel through the entire family before my feet even touched the pavement again. So keep up I did. For the entire mile and a half I stuck to him like glue at 70 mph, and even changed lanes once to get around a slower moving vehicle! I felt like I'd "arrived" and was now a legitimate rider.

The next day we ventured out more. This time it was on a three lane interstate with all kinds of cars (and semis!) merging and exiting. We switched lanes more than I've ever dreamed we needed to, and I'm pretty sure he did this on purpose. I really didn't pay attention to WHERE we were going, because I was too busy keeping up to Dean, and staying away from the tires of big trucks. But I did it! All 60 plus miles of it. And along the way, I discovered something I never knew about the gift of riding my own bike.

You see, my daughter has a disability, and my life with her is often very complicated by doctor appointments, school meetings, and worry about whatever her current medical crisis is. I rarely get a break from her care other than a couple of hours each week. Even when I was riding behind on Dean's bike, getting "lost in my thoughts" often meant getting lost in my thoughts about the latest school report, or doctor's diagnosis, or how to help her achieve the next much-needed independent living skill.

What I discovered on my own bike is there isn't one single opportunity to think about my worries of the day or week. Every fiber of my being is involved in the ride. My nose smells everything there is to smell; from the diesel fuel of the truck next to me, to the lilac bushes in full bloom on the side of a country road.

My ears hear the subtle changes in my engine, they hear when I need to shift gears up or down. They revel at the powerful sound that comes from a fast acceleration.

My hands grip the handlebars, doing a subtle dance between brake and clutch. With just a very slight change I can accelerate quickly, or let the engine speed slow me down. My feet join in the dance, braking and shifting as the need arises.

My body feels the changes in the engine, the rumble of the exhaust. It feels the changes in the wind, instinctively adjusting to keep the bike upright, becoming one with the bike through curves in just the right way so as to make it one smooth and beautiful move.

My heart and mind are in the ride, taking a break from all the world has offered to me on any given particular day. Leaving it all behind, trading it in for the feeling of freedom, power, independence and pride that come from riding alone.

At the end of the ride, when the kickstand goes down and I take the key out of the ignition, I'm ready to take on the world again, and all that it has to offer. I'm ready to be a mom again, refreshed and energized to live each day to the fullest.