November 1: My Inner Thighs and Fingers Were So Sore

Get your mind out of the gutter. Even though this was the same day that we went bowling, I was sore from hanging onto the back of a motorcycle and a rider's jacket. So Bob was able to get the tires changed on his motorcycle, a Honda 1300 VTX and now felt safe enough to give me a ride. I will admit two things - motorcycles never did it for me and the last two people who I rode with on a motorcycle are both in heaven: one drowned, my brother's best friend, Doug and the other from COVID, that's Ben. Yep he had a motorcycle when we first met and he wasn't a very safe rider, so. Doug was young and now that I think about it, it was pretty stupid to get on the back of the bike with him, but he was so handsome and he was my brother's bestie.

I tell Bob that I am more than a little bit scared to go over 10 mph on something that offers zero protection if we get hit. He assures me that I am precious cargo. He explains to me how to get on properly and how to lean into turns. Somehow I sort of remember these things from my previous two rides years and years ago. He put a helmet on me and a jacket that is very heavy. I'm wearing my Sorel boots. He decides we're going to go to Carbon Canyon and off we go. My thighs are gripping his seat in such a way that I have perfected the intense Kegel exercise. I am hanging onto the front pockets of his jacket so hard that my fingers begin to ache and lock up.

We ride through Chino Hills and he shows me the home he owned when he met his second wife; the one he sold to purchase the condo. Now we are in Brea. He takes me to a bar called Roscoe's. He orders me a vodka with cranberry juice. He drinks ice tea. I say thank you for being a responsible driver and he corrects me, "You don't drive a motorcycle" he tells me, "you ride a motorcycle." Then we get back on and I am feeling more comfortable now. I sit a bit further back to the backrest on my seat, but continue to perfect my kegels. I hang on to the back of his jacket and I square my shoulders to lean the way he is leaning to move with his body and the motorcycle that he is in control of. This forty mile ride has taught me something about giving up control and moving through life with a rhythm that matches someone elses. About not always finding a way to be in control of every situation, because whenever I think I'm in control - the Universe, God, or whatever you believe in slaps the shit out of me and sets me straight again. We humans can only pretend to be in control of our destiny, I'm tired of pretending, I'm letting go and seizing each opportunity as it presents itself in my life. I'm going to lean into the turns, hold on with a powerful kegel and supple hands, but relinquish control to a higher power, then see where life takes me.