born to ride...

   After eight weeks of pinning to ride on my sweetheart's Harley, eight anxious weeks holding vigil over the vexing failed repairs of his defunct bike,  eight weeks of watching sparkling days and gleaming bikes come and go, we finally made it. Addled by the bike's ailing engine and the mechanic's casual work ethic it was a test in patience I did not enjoy. Three carburetors later, it roared to life in the shop and rolled into my dooryard the next day.
   It's a vintage bike. An HD '84 Low Ride; they don't even make it any more. A classic with shinny black jugs and strategic chrome features,  saddled with a 'pillowed' pillion seat at the upholstered sissy bar, all black leather and just right where it counts. When he starts her up and roils the throttle, she rumbles to life and calls out a sweet sound that tickles my ear when her loud pipes purr. It is Pavlovian for me as a ready-to-ride smile emerges on my face and my heart grows giddy for the outing. He deftly toggles the switches for head light, fuel line, choke and mile counter before he mounts his chrome pony and gives the throttle a light twist, coaxing the engine awake evoking 'the old girl' to clear her throat.
   He shoots me a wink and invites me to join him with a nod of his helmet. First ride out this year and it is a perfect start. Fond memories swirling inside me of this familiar movement with my body. Like mounting a horse for the ten thousandth time, now with my left hand on his shoulder and gracefully swinging my right leg over the sissy bar, settling lightly into the plush seat. It's so much the same as riding a horse yet so much different. My oneness with horse has become oneness with him and his powerful bike.  I have him to hold on to and the warm silence of the horse will be replaced by the rushing wind and throaty pipes as we glide  into the horizon.   Finding the foot pegs, I adjust my balance and snuggle into his jacket as I confirm; "good to go..." We are off to any where he wishes to take me. First ride out this season as we pass the awesome brown horses grazing their paddock. I miss them, riding them. I adore this new passion and the company that comes with it. Moving smoothly away from the farm, he hammers the throttle and the roaring power fills my heart and soul. Leaning into his form, holding on a little tighter, completely happy. . . I affirm in myself: I was born to ride...

enjoy the day ~ live your dreams,
ell