I'm a former harley honey..
What an experience!
I spent many years riding on the back of a motorcycle. The motorcycle that I rode on the back of was driven by my dad, the late Wayne Hunter. I cannot remember how young I was at the time. It seemed like I was quite young, since I was often picked up after taking yet another swimming lesson at the "plunge." My dad used to call me his "fish." I was the kid you had to yell to get out of the swimming pool. Yep, that was me. My hands and body looked as if I would turn into a life size raisin at any moment. My dad had a 1970's model which other people called a "chopper."
When I was around different "drivers" as I call them, I learned many things. One of the things that I learned fairly quickly is that this type of culture is a come as you are type of attitude. You would not believe how many people drive motorcycles!
You know the cute guy next door, he might ride a motorcycle. There are many men and women who ride motorcycles. They are from all kinds of different job fields. Would you ever think that doctors, lawyers, policemen, policewomen, roofers, electrical workers, nurses, housewives, and every kind of occupation that you can imagine have one thing in common. Yes, they all either drive the motorcycle or they are on the back of one. From a young age, I was shocked at the answers when I asked what people did from a living. I remarked my usual answer of the time which was "cool." I know that I'm probably aging myself there, but that's ok.
My favorite memories are meeting all kinds of different people on our travels. We would go to all of these neat cafes' or restaurants or taco trucks. We would meet new people and have interesting conversations wherever we went. My dad was a social butterfly. I was shy, but my dad brought out my more outgoing side because he was so nice and friendly to me as well as with other people.
Sometimes we would follow the imposed diet from my mom. My mom put both of us on a diet because she said that my dad was a "bad influence" on me when it came to food. My dad would sometimes, but not always order me the most largest, fattest; most wonderful cheeseburger overflowing with crispy bacon, large carmelized onions sticking out, lettuce, melted dripping cheese; with that sauce that I'm not even sure what it is made out of but it is absolutely delicious. It is like the cherry on top of the banana split. Of course you would need the fat homemade french fries and ketchup to go along with the burger. No lunch would be complete without dessert early which was a milkshake, on occasion. On occasion that we were going to blow our diet big time.. and I was sworn to secrecy not to tell my mom. I would follow my diet sometimes by trying to look on the menu to see if what I usually ate at home was on it, but if I didn't, then it wasn't a big deal to me. Just don't tell my mom, ok? I would follow my diet most of the time...
I would go along for the ride with my dad. I have never driven a motorcycle. I do not know how, but I used to be his little mechanic and hand him various tools. My dad was the mechanic. I was just his eager assistant. I loved to help my dad and I also love working with tools. I am the woman drooling along with the men in sears because..I want the tools! I want to build really cool stuff too! When I walk into the tool section any place that has tools I am often asked if I need help. I want to say yeah, I need help picking one thing instead of the entire store, but I keep that to myself. I like working on things. It makes me feel like I have accomplished something when a part is put back on or fixed and it runs better.
I also love feeling the wind go through my hair. It was so exciting! The wind whishing whishing through my long straight brown hair. I hung onto the back of the 'bike for dear life. I held onto the part that the drivers call "sissy bars." No, this doesn't mean that you are a sissy! To me, in general, you have to be pretty gutsy just to be on a motorcycle in the first place. It is not like a car. You don't have the sides blocking you in, to wrap around you to protect your body. It is just a slang term. It is the long bars in the back; in our case to hold onto when the person driving it is tired of you hanging onto them like clothing in the dryer that someone has forgotten to put those fabric softener sheets so you stick to the person. The person might get annoyed, and in my case, it would be my dad who would yell, "hang onto the sissy bars!" In other words he loves me, but, I am squeezing him too tight. I am cutting off the poor man's circulation, in other words, but he is being nice about it. "Thanks, dad", muttering under my breath. It could also mean that the person has extra cushion around the middle and the other person's arms cannot safely hold onto the person without falling off. There is this shirt that I read "If you can read this, then the b#### fell off." That shirt gets plenty of laughs, even though I don't think I'm a b####, I laugh. It could also mean that that person ate way too much food at Christmas or Thanksgiving, and added a few pounds here and there. Either way the previous statement holds true.
I loved the experience of riding on back of that motorcycle. I had so many wonderful adventures with not only my dad, but also all of the other cool people that we came across, had conversations with, and joked over sodas with over the years. Those were some of the best years of my life. I will also have a soft spot for cool people, motorcycles, and working with tools. What an awesome ride it was!