Riding B*tch

Last night, I took my first ride on my husband's new motorcycle. I was so aware of actual movement through space, it was like flying. I felt like Lois Lane. I want to see ballet on these things. The motorcycle is somewhat more than a vehicle, it's a fitted attachment for your body that makes you travel much faster, and some kind of an animal, a pet, as well.

On the ride, the colors were more vibrant, golds richer and greens more verdant. And the air was fragrant. The plant life along the road smells soothingly sweet, and more pure than I'd have expected. Granted, the route is all countryish roads, so they'd be slightly less polluted than the city. The Wakarusa River was stinky to cross, but the Kaw (to my surprise) smelled okay. It was pretty mild.

The wind was an interesting new entity to meet. Shady spots were chilly. The smallest wisp of hair out of the helmet would smack at my skin. Sting-ey. Wind gets everywhere. I figured I would be shielded by Hans, but I was mistaken. Wind went around his nice aerodynamic helmet, and went smack into my face. It blew against the bottom rim of the half-helmet I was wearing, and made it feel like it was going to fly off (yay, chinstrap). Wind blew through the armholes of my top, and I was really glad not to be wearing shorts.

I'm getting a more traditional helmet than the half-helmet, which is on loan from a friend. It looks a lot like a bicycle helmet, only made of stronger stuff. I had the wind-resistance problem, and tried keeping my head bent forward to avoid that. In that position, my glasses slipped down, and caught the wind themselves: potentially not good. I opted for the wind-resistance.

Helmets are essential, by the way. For us, anyway. A lot of people don't care for them... but if they don't think their brains are worth protecting, maybe they're right. Of course, this argument really only works well for society if every helmetless crash were to result in death.

There's a heightened intimacy and trust involved in riding together. Your bodies are in contact, and you're both connected to the bike. It's an intense experience. A little scary at times, but I know Hans would never get me killed*. And he knows I'm not going to do anything dumb to throw the bike off balance. There you go: trust. I trust you and me together to make it through this half-hour wind tunnel.


* *ptui ptui* That's for Aunt Linda, who thinks saying it will bring it about. Oy gevalt, stop worrying already!