Good Vibrations

Crossed one item off my Life To-Do List today: Went on my first ever motorcycle ride, and it was a lot of fun!

For all of you motorcycle enthusiasts out there, the crotch rocket that I rode was a Suzuki Bandit 1200 <http://www.motorcycle.com/mo/mcsuz/01b12.html>.

I subtly pestered my friend for a ride; I'm about as subtle as a neon sign or a cattle prod when I want something, but it worked for me in this instance.

I borrowed a helmet from another coworker who rides, and I thought I was prepared until I was reminded gently that I needed to see if the helmet fit. Evidently helmets aren't one size fits all--duh! The helmet fit, so I was ready for my ride. I sheepishly walked out of the building; I was nervous, scared, and excited--just like Christmas morning!

Like any good Girl Scout and former graduate student, I did some research about being a good passenger on a bike so I would be prepared for my ride: <http://www.chuckhawks.com/motorcycle_passenger_tips.htm>. I was more nervous about where to put my hands during the ride then the ride itself, truth be told.

I wasn't prepared for the crowd in the parking lot, however. After speaking to them a few minutes, it was time to leave. My friend gave me a few last minute pointers: keep your feet on the pegs, lean with the bike, don’t crowd the driver, and speak up if the ride is too fast or too slow. He mentioned centripetal force, too. I would have been scared if he had recited the physics formula for this force. I don't need horror dreams of AP Physics flooding my life right now...

After helping me put on the helmet (I will never make it into the annals of bike-chickdom by being such a clueless passenger), it was time to mount the bike.

Anyone who knows me knows that my "height" (all 5'2" of it) is in my upper body and not in my legs. Straddling the bike was not easy, especially when you're trying to avoid touching the driver. He's married, so I expect lightening if I touch "owned" goods. I finally ungracefully mounted the bike, and the ride commenced.

I lightly grabbed his shirt with my left hand and his waist with my right (hedging my bets that the less physical contact I made, the happier the fates would be). I refrained from asking if the bike made my ass or my Manayunk girl thighs look large. I speak to him like a female way too much as it is. In hindsight it was silly to worry about touching him because it's not like you have a lot of choice when you're on a bike--there's not a lot of room to work with.

I couldn't speak much when I was on the bike because I was so busy processing all of the sensory information. I now know that there are three things that silence Rachel: fighter jets that fly over the house, motorcycle rides, and kissing.

I also now know why people love riding motorcycles.

The sensations are amazing: the breeze, the unobstructed view of your surroundings, the vibrations, the way a cotton polo shirt feels when it's your lifeline (just kidding), and the smell of the air. He drove nicely--not too slowly so I would be bored, but not too fast where I would be frightened. I trust him, and I also trust that he knows me, so I felt comfortable with him piloting the bike.

Acceleration is so much different outside the confines of an automobile's cage. Don't get me wrong, I love when Baby cruises smoothly at high rates of speed, but there's something to be said for feeling the acceleration and all of the bumps in the road.

While on the bike I only thought of my surroundings; after suppressing the urge to break into "Good Vibrations," I enjoyed the "quiet" normally busy and agitated mind. I wasn't scripting anything, and all I had to do was concentrate on the ride. It's not too difficult to get into the rhythm of the ride either when sitting so close to someone, feeling the bike under you, and having your hand on someone's waist. It was fun when the bike banked on turns; my favorite part of the ride was near the park where the road twisted and turned. I laughed when the bike accelerated. I felt vibrant, alive, sensuous, young, carefree, and a bit mischievous. Those are good vibrations for a woman who has been feeling rather numb for quite some time now.

When the ride was over (damned fleeting lunch hour), I just as ungracefully dismounted from the bike. After getting help taking my helmet off, I felt like I accomplished something, helmet hair and all. I guess I did--one item of the life To Do list!