Ride My Ride

In November of 2007 my husband decided to buy a Harley Davidson Nightster and learned to ride (yes, in that order). He fell in love with both and naturally wanted me to be a part of his newly found passion. My mother had a motorcycle for as along as I could remember until she decided to give it up at the age of sixty. So, motorcycling was not foreign to me and I had a female role model to prove that women can ride. The first time I rode on the back of our Harley, I knew I wanted to learn to ride myself.

In October 2008, I took the Harley Davidson Rider’s Edge course. The course began on a Thursday evening with a tour of the dealership and classroom study. My class consisted of six women (including me) and a seventy-one year old man. We completed our six hours of classroom work and were ready for the range at 8 am on Saturday morning. I honestly didn’t see how I could learn to ride the sporty little Buell Blast, but by noon I had successfully ridden it! I could start it up, effectively use the clutch, change gears, use both front and rear brakes simultaneously, stop-and-go, make turns, snake in between cones, and turn off the bike properly. It was fun and I was pleased with my achievement, but definitely knew I had to spend a lot more “time in the saddle” before becoming confident out on the street. I called my husband on a break and said, “Well, I can ride a motorcycle!” in an enthusiastic voice.

For me, learning to ride was a conscious personal goal and process of self discovery. I knew my biggest liability was my tendency to overreact, even panic, in less than ideal circumstances on the road. I had to focus on myself and not the other riders. I believe I effectively did that until late in the first day on the range. I was the first in our group to head out to ride in a race track like oval pattern. Our instructions were to get the bike into second gear, slow down using the brakes just before entering the curve, turn through the curve without using the clutch, and head into the straight picking up speed. This lesson seemed simple and fun to me – I was ready. I made my first loop around and as I entered the bottom of the curve for the second time, the rider in front of me had veered way off course. I noticed her and then I watched her go down. While I was right in the point of the curve where my tires probably had the smallest point of contact with the road, I panicked and grabbed my front brake – hard. I went down – hard. I felt my left shoulder hit the pavement and then my helmet crack against it. Next, I felt pain in my hip and my knee. The bike was on top of my left shin and I knew I couldn’t get out from under it. I lay on the ground knowing I was hurt. An instructor came over, asked me if I was okay, and lifted the bike off of me. I rolled around a bit moving my leg and knee. It hurt, but I knew it was just scraped. I felt pain on a level I’ve never before felt in my shoulder and arm. I couldn’t move my shoulder without experiencing an even higher level of pain. I sat up and the instructor looked at my shoulder and told me it was bruised. I got up and walked back to the edge of the range feeling slightly dizzy and seeing stars. The rider who went down before me only had a half helmet on – her cheekbone hit the pavement and had swollen up to golf ball size. She had an abrasion on her shoulder, but her face was the main injury. At this point, I wasn’t sure how badly I was hurt. I could move my hand and grip with it, I could move my wrist and elbow without any problem, I could not move my shoulder and I felt pain along the back of my tricep. I looked in the mirror and saw a knot at the end of my collar bone where it connects to the shoulder. I knew then I had to go to the ED and get x-rays. I called my husband and said, “Can you come and get me? I think I may have broken my collarbone or dislocated my shoulder”, in a less-than-enthusiastic voice this time.

With my sling made of oil rags, I drove myself to the ED while my husband followed me on the Harley. Several x-rays were taken of my shoulder and knee which showed no broken bones. Feeling relieved, I went home planning to rest and feel better the next day. Sleeping was difficult and I awoke the next morning (and many mornings after) to the same pain and limited mobility in my shoulder. I continued my normal routine over the next three weeks, but had to modify taking a shower, drying my hair, getting dressed, working out, putting on my seatbelt . . . you get it. This injury had altered my life.

On December 4, five weeks later, I took the course again. While my knee was stilled bruised and my collar bone still had a knot at the end of it, I was physically ready to get back on that bike. Mentally, I wanted to finish what I’d started. I told myself the “crash” was over. I focused on the factors which had caused it and reminded myself what I needed to do to be successful in the class. The first morning on the range was fun and I felt confident. After lunch we started with the exercise that ended the class for me the first time. I paid close attention to the instructions, attempting to focus on them hard enough to forget my previous experience. That worked briefly, but the more I tried to speed up and lean into the curves, the more scared I became. I actually visualized myself crashing again. At that point, I pulled over and stopped. My amazingly patient instructor talked me through my “freak out” – twice! I rode that oval several times never really accomplishing the skill, but discovering much about myself. I passed the skills test unable to complete a figure eight, but on that iron horse without falling off. I had achieved my goal.

On December 20, I bought a 2009 Yamaha V-Star 250. I rode it the next day with a fair amount of confidence. I felt very comfortable with its size, weight and power (or lack thereof!). I practiced changing gears, downshifting, leaning and pressing into turns, and turning corners from a stop in a parking lot a few blocks from my house for several days. On January 2, 2009, I got my “Class M” license and became an official “biker”. Each time I ride, I go a little further or take a different route. I am excited about the literal and figurative road ahead of me.

For those who know me well, learning to ride a motorcycle seems out of character. I represent the practical, logical girl who plays it safe. At 38, I made the choice to challenge those parts of myself. I wanted to keep the smart side of me and apply it to a new side that I would discover. I wanted to reach for something greater than my fear, greater than my own control, greater than my comfort zone. I reached for that throttle and found that I can go beyond my inhibitions to discover a freedom that empowers me to “ride my ride”.