Damn The Torpedoes: Full Speed Ahead

by Melissa
(Vancouver, BC)

They say that whatever does not kill us makes us stronger. I said that to a friend of mine the other day while we waited for the oil to be changed on her sensible minivan. She was in a rut and wanted to climb out. Her husband had suggested that she take classes down at the community center, had even handed her a nice fat check to do so. What she had done instead was go down and put that nice, fat check down on a motorcycle, the bike of her dreams. Today was the day she was going to take her test to get her license. Today was the day that she was going to pick up her bike. Today was the day she was going to tell her husband about the bike. Today was the day that everything was going to change.

Every now and then, you have to be able to break out of the mold that society, our friends, our family and even ourselves lock us into. Every now and then you have to take life by the handlebars and turn hard or you drive off into the sunset in your sensible minivan, always defined by the suburban roles that you fulfill and never once exploring the you that lurks just beneath the surface. Who knew what lay just beneath the surface of the first woman to say bah, I am not having children. Or, the first one to raise up a fist in protest against male oppression. It’s almost a safe bet that no one ever saw either little twist developing at all.

My friend is not worried as much as she is excited. There is no fear that hubby will go ballistic or become violent; he is one of those guys who will scratch his head for a second and worry if she will be safe, laugh and toss his arms around her and then be glad. He is one of those rare good guys that single women think about when they go out on bad dates and that married women compare their own mates too. She is a lucky woman; he is a lucky man.

I am along with my friend, not only for moral support but to follow her home, driving the sensible minivan along behind her as she takes her maiden ride home. I have no worries that she will not pass- I have never seen her one track focused on anything in our long and amusing friendship. The van finished, she pays up and off we go, ready for her to change her life forever. She gets out, grabbing her helmet and then turning to give me a smile that had almost been lost in her suburban rut. Giving me a double thumbs up, she laughs and says “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.” I laugh back. Damn them, indeed.