I love being the chick on the back of a bike....

but driving one?  That's even better.

Wouldn't it be nice if...
they were fixing the bike today?

Oh, by the way? When I say 'bike', there's only one thing I mean.  A motorcycle.  Heaven on two wheels.  Pure amazing freedom.  I rode on my first bike when I was little.  I can't even remember the age.  My dad was driving his green yamaha, and I was in front.  Just around the block, though, and not too fast.

Instead of his & her monogram towels, my paren'ts had his & her motorcycles.  His was a dull-apple green, and hers was a bright gorgeous sparkly cerulean blue. I fell in love with two things that day.  The Cerulean Blue and motorcycles.

The next time I even set foot on a bike I was 15, and it was a motocross bike. I couldn't grasp the concept of evening out the clutch and the gas to make it go, and it was the same with a manual car.  Once I got it into 2nd gear on, it was easy.  First though? That....was a horse of a different color.

Since I had grown up around bikes, when my friend Jason pulled into the driveway on his slick new Shadow, I didn't hesitate.  I hopped on the back of that thing like a fat kid would eat cake.  I had grown up around bikes, just like I had guns.  Whereas most parent's would be apalled that their child was hopping on the back of a bike at 18, my dad's only requirement was that he needed to drive it first.  Just once, around the block.  This time, I was on the back. That's when the love affair really started. 

There wasn't anywhere Jason & I went that summer that I wasn't on the back of his bike.  Unless his girlfriend was, but her parent's wouldn't let her most of the time.  That was my senior year of high school. 

Now, I'm in Austin, Texas.  Motorcycles are all over the place.  One of my best girlfriends & her husband ride, my aunts boyfriend rides, Homeboy rides (but doesn't have a bike...anymore).  It's practical to have a bike, and more than practical, it's almost a requirement. 

So wouldn't it be nice, if they were fixing the broken bike in the garage, if all it needs is a new clutch, and oil change, and a little love. 

And all this from an assumption, because someone nodded to the garage where the bike is, and when I asked what they were doing tomorrow, neither one answered, but switched the subject.

A girl can definitely dream, right?