Riding as a passenger on a Harley is a unique experience. When my husband and I purchased the bike, he had years of riding dirt bikes and street bikes compared to my one experience of riding with my father in Nassau. I did not expect to discover a superhero.
When we took off down the road, I suddenly felt like I was in a car with all its windows down and doors taken off. The bumpier-than-I-remember street and closer-than-I-remember cars were our intimate companions on this adventure. Every car that passed us seemed sinister as it wooshed by our fragile machine. Pedestrians at the street corners were unpredictable, often stepping out in front of us with no apparent concern for their lives. A whole new world of peril opened before me.
But as the wind buffeted the top of my helmet and tickled me under my chin, I started to relax and enjoy the movie unfolding beside us- the proud mountains, meandering canyons, and the expanse of valleys. This was much more than glancing out of the “Lexus cages” that Jon Foreman sings about. On the Harley, you don’t travel to a place, you travel through a place. Complete with road bumps and fragrant wildflowers. Bikers talk about the freedom of riding, and suddenly I understood.
And as a passenger, there was more than just freedom. I had to trust my husband who drove us on and on along the winding road. For a moment, I was Lois Lane rescued by Superman, just in the nick of time. I was not in control of my situation, but that loss of control gave me the freedom to enjoy the ride. My husband’s helmet partially blocked my view of where we were going as much as Lois couldn’t know exactly where she would land. But I know my husband, and so I can trust him to get us there.
I had known I was going for a ride but I had no idea I would be flying with Superman.
writer and rider 