Lately, I've been trying to figure out when I discovered my affection for motorcycles. I think it really began when I was eight years old. That year my dad bought a late seventies Kawasaki KZ 1000. He hadn't had a motorcycle for four or five years because he was focusing on raising me and my sister, but couldn't handle life without riding any longer.
My sister actually went for a ride with my dad before I did. While they were out touring the country roads, I sat on the living room floor dreading their return. I was terrified to ride on a motorcycle. The fact that you're in the open with little protection must have been the reason
My dad walked in the front door and instantly asked if I was ready to go for a ride. I flat out refused. I can't remember how long it took for my mom and dad to convince me to give it a try, but I guarantee it wasn't just a couple of minutes. I finally grabbed a helmet, strapped it on and put on my jean jacket (I didn't own a leather jacket yet). I climbed in the back of the bike and clung to my dad with all of my strength. My dad proceeded slowly down a back road.
As we continued our ride, I felt my grip lightening and my body relaxing. I actually began to giggle with enjoyment. We rode through a corner and I made the common beginner mistake of fighting against the lean of the bike. My dad corrected me and the next corner was much smoother.
When we returned home, my first comment was, "When can we go again?" I guess you can say that I was hooked from that moment on. I also learned the valuable lesson that trying an activity in spite of your fear can lead to great things.
"Limits, like fear, is often an illusion." - Michael Jordan
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