Why do I ride! Really?

by Barb
(Skagit County, Washington, USA)

Hi Ladies,

Well, hmmm. Let's see, when I was about 5 years old, my Poppa sat me on the gas tank of a pre-war Harley and took me for a ride. I was frightened to death and totally enthralled! He managed the suicide clutch, hand shift, spark advance and throttle, all while keeping one hand around me to keep me from slipping. I've been hooked ever since. I pestered the boys in the neighborhood for rides on their minibikes. At 15, I got a 1959 Lambretta scooter and was in heaven--until my father caught me riding before I had a license. Oops....

So I got a license, and a BSA Bantam 125cc two-stroke (but it looked like a real motorcycle), and them my father got me a post-war 80" Harley ULH flathead. Wow! It was huge, and when it fell over, I couldn't lift it up, so I sold it. Next came a BSA A-10 650 twin, and the first of a few Nortons, a 1962 650SS.

I've been married twice, have a son and two granddaughters (8 year old twins), and through it all, I lean on bikes. I ride to remember or to forget. I ride to laugh or to sing off-key or to cry my eyes out in privacy. I ride to save gasoline--naw, I'm lying there. I don't care about the gasoline; I ride for ME. When something goes wrong with the bikes, I call my Father and blame him, and he laughs....

I ride because I can't NOT ride. Pretty simple, you would think, right? It gets complicated when you factor in a family, a job, all sorts of things---riding to the store for food; how do you carry it? A sidecar, of course.....and how do you explain to a non-rider boyfriend that it's really worth $1000.00 to have that sidecar? ("It's my money and I want it!"---that's how...)

So I guess I ride for myriad reasons, all of them personal, some even rational. 8^)

That's why I'm here!

Barb