Please Let Me Ride

When I read this morning that Pamela from Helmet or Heels is hanging up her helmet, my heart just sank. Not because Pamela isn't going to recover, nor because her life will be less of a life from not riding, because Pamela seems to have a rather full life and seems somewhat serene in her decision.

I think most of us put ourselves in another's shoes and wonder, "What if that were me?"

My life, like Pamela's is full. I'm deeply in love for the first time in my life with a man who works as hard as I do to have the best relationship possible. I have a beautiful, sparklingly brilliant daughter who is married to the best son-in-law I could have imagined, and they are expecting a baby in the summer. My heart overflows with the idea of holding my daughter's child. I have a phenomenal niece Shelli who is also my bookkeeper and assistant, and my most cherished friend. Her family of 6 is an incredible blessing to me and they keep me loved and hugged. And I have my work, which consumes me and feeds me simultaneously. I love what I do and I love doing it with my hubs. I am also blessed with so many friends that I feel enriched by on a daily basis.

All of this and I didn't mention motorcycling. So yes, I would have a full life even if I couldn't ride again.

But the idea fills me with dread.

That sensation of grabbing my life, rolling my own throttle, making split-second decisions, feeling the movement beneath me, smelling the exhaust, feeling the heat of the engine. . . for me, that's what makes life spectacular.

I don't pity Pamela because she will be just fine. But the idea scares the shit out of me. God, please let me ride for many more years to come. I have so many miles I want to travel, so many roads to see, so many hours behind my handlebars left to experience. . .

Please.