The things we do for love...

I hate motorcycles. Always have. My Father drove a Harley for years and I never had the desire to get on and go for a ride. Even my brother, when he got into the whole motorcycle thing. I was just always afraid of them. Afraid of the danger. I had visions of my head splattered all over the pavement... not a pretty picture! When I was a little girl I witnessed an horrific motorcycle accident and I think that is where my fear started. It didn't help when I received a call at work one day from Nancy at Wuesthoff Hospital (and yes I remember the conversation in complete detail) telling me that my brother had just been brought in from a motorcycle related accident. I never want to relive a phone call like that again! My stomach sank and I barely remember sitting down, but luckily the chair was under me. After nursing my brother back to health for several weeks he again rode a motorcycle. I could never understand the power these things held over people. What was the attraction? Now you can imagine my surprise when my husband tells me he wants a motorcycle. Over my dead body!! I made every point in the book about we have young children that need their father, we can't afford an accident or for him to be out of work. Not to mention the added expensive of a third vehicle in the household. I was very clear with my arguments but nevertheless, one day he went and bought a japanese, rice-rocket, sport bike. I was livid, to put it mildly. I threatened him not to come home, that it was "the bike or me". He reluctently agreed to sell the bike. I'll admit, it killed me to see him so miserable. This bike made him so happy! Why? It was a machine. It couldn't provide him love and comfort. It wouldn't keep him warm at night. But he would just go out riding for an hour or so. He was so peaceful and happy while on that thing. For 3 months we tried to sell it. Listed it in the cycle-trader, posted fliers and used word-of-mouth. No takers. Lots of people wanting to trade or make payments, but no... I wanted it gone. I wanted the headache gone. I wanted my husband back. I felt this machine coming between us. He made new friends and wanted to go riding with them, where did that leave me. Home with the girls, thats where. He would beg me to go ride with him. I was too scared. Then he threw out a phrase I could not argue with. "Don't you trust me?" Well of course I do. So one day I got up the courage to ride down the street with him. Just around the block and back home... THATS IT! When we got home I said... maybe just down to the end of the island and back. I guess I kind of liked it. It took a couple more weeks until I braved going on the main roads, but I did. And in going on these little rides with him I realized something. I discovered why people enjoy this so much. When you're on a bike you feel so free. Almost like flying. The wind in your hair. Surrounded by nature. Just me and Russell on the bike and feeling so close to each other. Very intimate in fact. I'm still scared of the "what-ifs" and the visions of body parts on the highway still pop into my head, but I love my husband. I love him enough to put my fears aside and join him in something he loves. Because it makes him happy. He even has both girls falling for this motorcycle thing. Keilani begs to go for ride on it to the bus stop and Evelyn likes to play with daddys helmet. This giant piece of metal which once almost destroyed a marriage has wormed it's away into the affections of our family. Who knew?!?!