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Ride, Boomer, Ride!! |
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by Diane Gross
So I called my other friends, the ones who had motivated this baby boomer to buy a motorcycle in the first place, and invited myself to ride with them if they had plans -- and they did!
I woke up Friday morning to ride to the Harley Dealership (my first "real" ride-- 60 miles round trip) to buy a bag for my bike. I also made plans to meet two guys to ride with me to another bike shop's grand opening. If I go to Bike Week, I had better get used to being around lots of bikers! I jumped out of bed, got dressed, hopped on my bike and took off. Afraid to ride in traffic, I avoided a highway and took a less traveled road. Bad choice -- the pavement was in horrible shape and everything on SportyGirl (my Harley Sportster) shook loose. I finally got into traffic, and sorry for bragging but I was terrific . . . didn't miss a beat! Even nodded my head at a few "lookers!"
My point in telling you this is to tell you how my perception of "awesome" actually changed. This time he just smoothly swerved around in the intersection, looked at me, saw I was okay, gave me a nod and a thumbs up... and rode away like the Lone Ranger! HIHO SILVER AWAY! All fun aside, I think this is what bikers mean when they call themselves "family" to other bikers. This guy actually came back to see if I needed help. All I can say is "Wow"... and "You Go, Boy!"
Another guy adjusted my handlebars, then shocked me when he stuck his leg up over his head as he said "Now girl, be careful 'cause stuff like this DOES happen." With the leg of his jeans pulled all the way up to his thigh, he had unveiled a metal-looking stick with a shoe at the end. A car had collided with his bike and severed his leg several years ago. Whew! On to the grand opening! My two male escorts and I -- all on our Harleys -- roared into the parking lot joining hundreds of bikers who acted as though we had ridden with them all before. Fact is, we didn't know a single one of them. There were all kinds of bikes, bikers, and their babes -- most from my generation and yours. What drives us baby boomers in search of such adventure? I was curious to know what had everybody's attention as the afternoon went on. The girl selling raffle tickets (earlier only clad in snakeskin chaps and three snakeskin patches -- two over her party hats and one -- well, you know) -- now wore an itsy-bitsy, tiny-weenie, red, white, and blue thong bikini. She had 500 bikers standing in line, hands over their hearts, singing "OH SAY CAN YOU SEE" with glazed-over eyes, waiting their turn for her to wash their bike -- FREE OF CHARGE! I've seen it all!
"HarleyGirl Diane," as she's known in biking circles, can be reached by email via her real name, Diane Gross. |
My
plans were to go to Blue Ridge Georgia with a few other boomer
girls and just chill. I would trailer my motorcycle and use it
to ride on those winding Georgia roads I've heard so much about.
But my plans fell through though -- and now I had nothing to do.
I had Friday, Saturday and Sunday suddenly open. 
They
invited me to come down for a "teddy bear" ride on Saturday morning.
I was so excited -- a real "group ride!" With my failed plans
now buried in the past, I decided to spend Friday just playing
and getting ready for Saturday. 
Nearly
at the dealership, this guy on a red Harley (easy rider looking)
came zooming past me. I pulled up behind him at the light and
saw him smiling in his mirror. I wonder if he knows I'm a "baby
boomer." Now, he was eye candy for sure, and definitely cool!
He leaned back and said, "Hi, how are you doin" -- so I responded
with "Just fine … do you know where the Harley dealership is?"
I guess I didn't want him to think I pulled in back of him to
get a better look -- he was already straddled all cocky on that
Harley -- like a rooster over a hen! Anyway, I blew it! The light
turned green and off the biker dude took . . . and I STALLED.
Thank God no one was behind me! I sheepishly walked my bike into
the median -- what a jerk, I forgot to downshift! I cannot imagine
where my mind was? I weaseled my way back on the road and waited
for the green light again. But HE WAS COMING BACK! Now I know
that he saw me mess up! 
At
the dealership, I met some unique folks. One mechanic had big
round metal grommets (things in flags and banners where the string
goes) inserted in his earlobes. I could look through them like
a peephole on a door. I said, "Why did you put those things in
your ears -- wouldn't earrings have been less hurtful?" He laughed
and said, "You know? I just like the high-pitched whistle it makes
when I get going about 70 mph on my ride!" Oh my gawd . . . Whatever!
So
Friday was terrific -- I felt more confident than ever. I came
back home on the highway I had avoided on the way out and rode
in lots of traffic with my new bag. I ran out of gas for the first
time but my reserve tank actually had enough gas to get me to
a station. I only lost a back peg going over that rough road.
I headed home to rest up for Saturday's Teddy Bear ride. I fed
my famished SportyGirl, rode her into the garage, gently wiped
her off, and found myself actually patting her seat saying, "good
job baby girl."