This sexy little post has been dusted off for the Dudette Write challenge over at Dude Write. I’m tickled Peach to be amongst such handsome and intelligent company. Special thanks goes to Ken over here for the recommendation!
Dude Write is an awesome forum for male bloggers that proves men are capable of writing the real, the honest and the insanely funny – all with stellar grammar skills. Amazing, considering if I were a guy I’d be less concerned with not ending sentences with a preposition and more concerned about not sitting on my own balls.
Go check them out. You won’t be disappointed.
My parents never once forbade me to ride a motorcycle, yet in all my thirty-four years I had only thrown a leg over one time.
That single occasion had been a spring break joyride on a friend of a friend’s burly black Harley. I remember the guy’s kindness in accommodating the wishes of a freshman-15’ed girl as much as I remember that stunning sunset as we lit over the bay bridges of Daytona Beach. The clouds had lingered that night amidst the most vivid streaks of peach and orange flame. Their magnificent reflections on the water stole my breath. I remember the speed and the thrill of the ride itself in the vaguest of tones because, as with all brilliant sunsets, memories fade far too quickly.
Now, in bright Technicolor and nearly half my life span later, I was once again throwing a leg over another black bike. This beast was no Harley, but a sleek and hefty Yamaha with more horsepower than was probably wise. Settling onto the seat, I gingerly snaked my arms around the muscled ribcage of the man that continued to surprise.
The badass helmet we had purchased for me was planted firmly atop my head, and by the way my cheeks smooshed ever so sexily against the inner cushioning it certainly wasn’t going anywhere. Jason turned his head, clunking his helmet cutely into mine and said, “Just hold on tight, baby!!!”.
The man cranked the engine, revved it a few times, lifted his remaining foot off the ground, and we were off.
We rolled out of my neighborhood slowly, which let me adjust to the strange sensations of the creature I was perched atop. I could feel the heat of the engine warming the legs of my jeans. I absorbed the noise of the powerful engine moving through the lower gears and felt the muffled whoosh of air through my helmet. My eyes widened in surprise at the odd balance and motion of the first few turns, but I remembered from my first riding lesson to let the driver do the leaning. I just needed to relax and go with it.
When we reached the intersection of the first major road, Jason took my hands and with a seat-belt motion, pulled them tighter around his torso. The adjustment pulled the front of my body even closer to him. Whooo, me likey! Then he gently moved one of my hands to the top of my other wrist and wrapped my fingers around it, making a cinch that would be more solid than just holding onto his waist. With a satisfied nod of his head and a left-right check for oncoming traffic, he went.
And then we were flying. My arm muscles tightened instinctively around his body while my abs engaged to keep my weight close to him. The powerful acceleration force shoved my heart up into my throat.
It wasn’t scary. It was glorious.
The freedom. The danger. The wide open skies above me. My long swish of red hair trailing from underneath the helmet. And most of all, the man who was ever so slowly managing to bring out the side of me that for years has lingered just below the surface – the daredevil, the wanderer, the adventurer. That fearless me that life’s bruises had beaten down into the dreaded “be careful, or you’ll get hurt again” me.
The bright-eyed awe remained on my grinning face for the whole ride into town, where we had dinner at a burger joint that had hooks above the bar for our helmets. I’d been there before but never noticed the hooks or knew those existed for that purpose! After stuffing our faces we decided to try to beat the storm clouds that were looming, taking the highways this time instead of the back roads. The thrill I felt as we reached interstate speeds was exhilarating – the force of the wind on our bodies, the roar of the engine, the muscles of our legs pressed intimately together, and me clinging to him like a spider monkey.
Speeding away from Atlanta as the sun set behind the skyline, I realized I didn’t want the ride to end. I wanted to forever remain in that land of possibilities – the life with someone that not only allows me to be myself, but encourages it. The life with someone every bit as adventure-loving as me. The life with someone who so far appears to have a big fat check mark in damn near every ridiculously picky qualifying box I’ve created. I was simply high on the concept that the combination of all three could actually be a reality. Could it, really? Could there be even more than I’ve already seen? More, could it be this good for a long, long time??? I smiled as I thought to myself that I only had one choice.
To hold on tight baby, and enjoy the ride.