Harley Riders………….

Riding a Ferris wheel and baking biscuits in a wood burning cook stove oven were moved from my “to do” list to my “ta da” list. Harley Davidson riding was next. Finding a Harley rider to take a single mid-forties woman on a ride is harder than one might think.

Dating my potential Harley rider candidates was not part of my vision so I weeded out the owners interested in a “dating me if you want a ride” scenario. Spring break found me back in Kansas staying with my daughter and her roommates. Visiting a biker bar on Saturday night, we were trying to convince one of her roommate’s Harley owner biker friends to give me a ride around the block. He kept assuring us he was having no part of giving the mother of his friend’s friend a ride, even around the parking lot, while “under the influence” no matter how persuasive she was. Respecting his convictions I waited for another opportunity.

My first Harley ride came later in August at another friend’s annual northern Illinois suburb backyard fish fry. The guy’s wife said sure, why not. The ride was everything I thought it would be. An interesting twist finds Harley riders okay with not wearing a helmet for themselves, their passengers not so much. For me, even with the helmet, there is a feeling of being close with the world. Being surrounded by metal and steel does not give me the same feeling of exhilaration. There is not a doubt in my mind riding a motorcycle is risky business, which is part of the allure.

A year later I was given a second ride on a Harley Davidson motorcycle while visiting with a friend at a local bar and grill hangout. This time our route took us out Interstate 70 west of Topeka through the Flint Hills. Words describing the thrill escape me. We were gone longer than I expected. My friend was a little annoyed when we joined her back at the bar.

My anecdotal evidence finds that Harley Riders hang out at bars and whether they are married or not are very interested in picking up women. Pursuing the experience, I had no idea my naive interest would lead men to think I was really interested in them and not their ownership of the bike I wanted to ride.

Of course, this predilection might be an individual’s character trait rather than a motorcycle owner characteristic………………..

©2011 Susan Kendall.  All rights reserved

About Lily

Born in Topeka, Kansas in the middle of the 20th Century, daughter, granddaughter, niece, sister, cousin, mother, aunt, grandmother, great-grandmother, friend, reader, spiritual, writer, cook, crafter, junker...... twice-married, former non-profit executive in retread mode... currently living a bucket list life in a remodeled schoolhouse.....
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