Sunday, December 16, 2012

Riding home

Growing up riding dirt bikes, the desert was an open opportunity to ride what felt like everywhere. As I got a little older, big enough to ride my dad's dirt bike, I started riding on some of the back roads & a couple times to a friends house. Part of my rebelion side, against the law, against my parents rules. Then I discovered boys with legal street bikes & dated a couple before meeting hubby on his bike.

30+ years I rode on the back, all along thinking about riding my own, but always doubted I could handle the weight of a Harley or the crazy big city traffic on a bike.

Then one day was fuck it, I am doing this. I'm riding my own.

Here I am a couple years later, not as many miles as I hoped, but more miles then I had once thought I would never do.

My high school reunion was a month back, I had already made it clear I am riding home, over 300 miles each way by myself. I've riden by myself  hundreds of times, but never that distance, through mountains alone. Hubby was saying "do what you gotta' do" kids were insisting I call them the second I get there.

My parents still lived in the house they bought when I was 4, I have done the drive home countless times in a car or truck, so many times, I could do it with my eyes closed. I know I can haul ass throught the reservation, I know the curves on the road going through the mountain, the tunnel that was featured in a movie & the two bridges.

I start looking for the mountain peak that signifies home, it starts out so far away it's hazy, soon it gets clearer & the clearer it gets, the more I know I am closer. Our house is at the base of this mountain, clear view from the back porch.

Riding into my hometown, riding on Main Street to the highway up to the house, not riding up the long driveway because it is still gravel, but parking by the mail box instead. I'm home, but I'm not really. This is my growing up home, the house I own with hubby is my real home.

A couple people I went to school with was not surprised to see me pull up on my beautiful light blue Harley. Those that knew me back then, knew how I would turn out. Those that never cared to get to know me the 11 years we went to school, were shocked & some didn't recognize me. I did show up wearing my full leathers & my vest with my chapter patch.

I rode a few of those back roads from so long ago. Commenting to my dad how cool it was to finally legally ride those roads.  He asked what did I mean & I said oh, nothing.

I took the ride back a little slower, taking my time.  I didn't want to let this ride to end.