Sandy on Two Wheels
Dear reader, I admit to being a motorbike addict. Please don't hold it against me.
Some may say — in fact many of my friends have said — that I’m an adrenaline junkie. I’ll admit to jumping out of a plane, swimming with a shark and being an avid motorbike rider, but it’s more than a rush, it’s a celebration of life. I just can’t get enough of new experiences.
I was a late-comer to the two-wheeled crowd, but I remember the day well. Hubby sent me on a joy ride for my 29th birthday, with a friend who owned a bright yellow Triumph Daytona (and you thought Brad Pitt was hot!).
Wow, that machine growled like a jaguar with the slightest twist of the throttle.
So, I climbed aboard behind said friend with a knot of trepidation in my belly. It didn't take long for the wind on my face, the warmth of the sun on my thighs and the smells of the passing country side, to totally mesmerise me. It's difficult to describe the feeling of freedom and power, yes and a little danger too. By the time we arrived at our morning tea destination I was hooked.
I may have been a tad apprehensive when I'd climbed aboard the Triumph that day, but when I dismounted, there was a persistent grin on my face. What else could I do? I pestered our poor friend to take me for a ride every fortnight (rain, hail or shine), and two months later announced to my stunned hubby that I was going to get my license.
Keep the shiny side up.
Thankfully hubby patiently tolerates all of my crazy schemes, and he got his motorbike license at the same time. We've never looked back.
One of the things I love most about motorcycling, is the community. I soon discovered that the camaraderie is all encompassing and breeches gender, race, and all other barriers. It's a lot like the writing community in that way.