Peter's motorcycle
Today is sunny and clear, although not very warm, and I saw two motorcycles on my way to work. It would be a great day to ride a motorcycle. Now, when I say, “ride” a motorcycle, I mean exactly that. I do not mean, “drive” a motorcycle – I belong on the back with someone else driving. If I were to drive a motorcycle, I would be so scared that I would not go fast enough for traffic. But clinging to the back of a bike, with a handsome male operating the thing, the wind making my denim feel like its actually some sheer fabric barely covering me, that would be great.
Boo does not ride a motorcycle. He’s very conservative. A couple of boyfriends ago, I had one with a motorcycle. His name was Peter. I dates Peter for 6 years, which is longer than I’ve known my husband. It is hard to think of Peter now without thinking about his ego or his arrogance, but at the time I was living with him, I was very happy.
Peter had (and may well still have) a 1979 Honda CRX500. This is a big, cumbersome bike, a touring bike, but without the power of the larger 750CC engines. Peter and I worked in the same building, but for different legislators. On warm days when the legislators were not in session, we would ride the motorcycle to work. It made parking downtown much easier. Although, one time my boss did happen to be in town and the first comment he made was about parking. That was my boss’s sense of humor.
We would also take the bike for rides in the country. The best kind of motorcycle ride, like the best kind of bicycle ride, is on long, winding country roads with gentle hills. It was always a great way to loosen up and relax after a long hard day. Sometimes we would stop for ice cream. Peter knew the location of every ice cream stand in the rural area near our house, and often knew the owners as well, as his family had lived in the area for generations.
One time we took the motorcycle to the Adirondacks, hiked up and back down a mountain, and drove into a nearby town for food. I felt better when we got a seat outdoors, because I never felt so filthy in all my life: all that road dirt on us, and the sweat from climbing the mountain making the dirt stick. It was nasty and I said never again.
I do not really miss Peter all that much. But I do miss the motorcycle.
Boo does not ride a motorcycle. He’s very conservative. A couple of boyfriends ago, I had one with a motorcycle. His name was Peter. I dates Peter for 6 years, which is longer than I’ve known my husband. It is hard to think of Peter now without thinking about his ego or his arrogance, but at the time I was living with him, I was very happy.
Peter had (and may well still have) a 1979 Honda CRX500. This is a big, cumbersome bike, a touring bike, but without the power of the larger 750CC engines. Peter and I worked in the same building, but for different legislators. On warm days when the legislators were not in session, we would ride the motorcycle to work. It made parking downtown much easier. Although, one time my boss did happen to be in town and the first comment he made was about parking. That was my boss’s sense of humor.
We would also take the bike for rides in the country. The best kind of motorcycle ride, like the best kind of bicycle ride, is on long, winding country roads with gentle hills. It was always a great way to loosen up and relax after a long hard day. Sometimes we would stop for ice cream. Peter knew the location of every ice cream stand in the rural area near our house, and often knew the owners as well, as his family had lived in the area for generations.
One time we took the motorcycle to the Adirondacks, hiked up and back down a mountain, and drove into a nearby town for food. I felt better when we got a seat outdoors, because I never felt so filthy in all my life: all that road dirt on us, and the sweat from climbing the mountain making the dirt stick. It was nasty and I said never again.
I do not really miss Peter all that much. But I do miss the motorcycle.
posted by EMLB at 11:34 AM
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