When I feel alive

I feel alive when I'm riding my motorcycle. I'm not sure whether that means I'm in the midst of a midlife crisis or not. Really I guess it doesn't matter to me.

I was introduced to motorcycles when my mom and adoptive dad bought matching bikes when I was about 11 years old. We started doing cross country trips, first to Oregon, then to Washington. I remember being perched on the back of my dad's Honda 750 on Oregon roads with lush forests on each side. I remember picking raspberries in campgrounds we stayed at. They are very fond memories. Shortly after that my mom and adoptive dad divorced, and soon enough my dad had a live in girlfriend. She "inherited" my mom's motorcycle, and together they planned a summer long trip across the united states. The summer between 8th and 9th grade we left. Across the southwest, through the south, all the way to Florida. Then up the east coast, all the way to Niagara falls. Finally across the midwest, finally back to california. It was the trip of a lifetime. That would have been the summer of 1977. Each city is marked with memories of experiences I had, people i met, and trouble i got into.

That next summer i moved in with my mom and her new boyfriend, the man who would become my stepdad. I didn't experience motorcycles again until i graduated from high school in 1981, and my adoptive dad gave me that same motorcycle that my mom first owned and that his girlfriend had ridden on our cross country trip. It was a 1970-something Yamaha 650. Silver in color, it had the old vetter fairing and saddle bags. After a quick lesson in a parking lot, i was turned loose on the roads. I was only 17 years old and really had no idea what i was doing. That probably explains why i crashed the thing (in an accident that was not my fault) after three months. So at 17 my experience with motorcycles came to an end.

Fast forward many, many years. In my mid 30s I started getting the itch to ride again. I researched it, talked it over with my (then) wife, looked at my life insurance to make sure my kids would be taken care of in the event of something bad happening. Finally i found my motorcycle...a 1995 Honda Shadow VT1100C American Classic Edition. Once again i was flooded with the lust to ride that i experienced as a child . The wind in my face, the sun beating down on me, leaning into a mountain curve. The best way i can describe it is that in a car i feel like an observer of what's happening around me, but on my bike i feel like a participant. I feel connected to the sunshine, the wind, the flowers, the trees. It is a truly spiritual experience.

When i bought my bike it had 5,000 miles on it. It had been sitting in a guy's garage for a long time. Now it has just over 50,000 miles, and each mile has been a gift of grace. I've gone on group rides with clubs and in parades. I've camped from my bike alone. My exwife and i spent many times together riding. Each of my boys has fallen in love with the feel of riding. These days i don't ride as much as I'd like. I get to ride to work two days a week, days when i have no kids to drop off or pick up. Riding has become part of the rhythm of my life. And when I ride i feel alive.