First and, possibly, last rides
My first ride was as a passenger when I was about 12. A family friend brought over a dirt bike and offered to take me for a ride. Growing up in the inner city many, many (did I say MANY) years ago, one didn't often see a motorcycle, much less a dirt bike in the city.:drummer: I jumped on the chance to take a ride and got on the bike. This friend was actually a fiend- I swear he was trying to knock me off the bike as he zig-zagged around cars and zipped around corners often ignoring stop signs! :thewife: If you grew up where I did, you'll know that navigating some of the narrow one way streets is like running an autocross. There's not enough parking for all the cars, so many cars are double-parked. You'd think people would at least double park on the same side, but noooooo, you have to double park on both sides and force others to slalom through the street! :jerkoff: Anyway, I held on for dear life. When we finally got back and I realized I made it without incident, I didn't. As I dismounted, my bare thigh (yep, I was wearing shorts at the time) pressed against the hot exhaust. What a nice burn that was!:lightning But, the bug bit and I hungered for a bike since then. It was actually about 30 years later that I was finally about to get a bike of my own. :yo:
So while I have your attention, and this is not an attempt to hijack the thread as I think it is along similar lines, let me tell you one about what will probably be someone's last ride as a passenger. About a year after I finally got my first motorcycle (not the MV, which came several years later), I was taunting my elderly neighbor about taking her for a ride.
A beautiful, warm soul of an Italian woman with many life stories to tell in her 80 years on this globe (just don't get her going about the war, Mussolini, and how Fidel Castro is no different!). She threatened me to not tease her again, so once more I said, "Come on, let's go for a ride!" She looked at me and in her Italian accent said, "Ok, but Ima puttin' on my boots!" She then turned around and ran into the house. Her daughter, who was just enjoying the show and had a big smile on her face, now showed signs of stress! :jsm: This little old lady meant business! She came back out wearing boots and a jacket -she was ready to roll! :smoking:
She put on the helmet. I started to give her some pointers on how to be a passenger to which she just said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah...." while waving me off. Anyway, she got on and we hit the streets. :f4:
After riding for a 5-10 minutes and talking via the helmet intercom, I realized she had stopped talking. This got me a bit nervous, but after asking a couple times if she was OK, she finally said "Yes, Imma OK". But, she didn't say a word the rest of the ride. A few minutes later we were back at the house and her daughter helped her off the bike. The little old lady took off the helmet and looked at me with tears in her eyes. I thought there was something wrong. Maybe she got hurt mounting the bike or from one of the little bumps on the road? I asked again if she was OK. She choked up, and with a smile breaking through her watery eyes, motioned as if to say "Thank you", blew me a kiss and ran into the house. :wtf:
Wondering what the heck just happened, her daughter filled in some of the puzzle pieces. It turns out my neighbor's father was an avid motorcyclist back in Italy. As a little girl, she would ride with him everywhere, holding on to dear life while Crazy Italian Motorcyclist Dad ripped through country dirt roads around the outskirts of Venice. And, I do mean she held on for dear life. Weeks later, when talking about the ride I took her on, she told me of an incident with her father where, due to the bumpy roads and her father's love of speed, she had actually fallen off the bike but her father hadn't realized it until several miles later! :jsm::wtf: Luckily, she was OK and just waited for him to return to pick her up.
So, my taking her for this short motorcycle ride was bringing back all sorts of memories of her homeland, her beloved father, and the many wonderful times she had with him on two wheels. This story is what came to mind when I first saw the pic in the first post by Erik. His little girl is what my neighbor must have looked like back in the day, sans helmet, but still holding on tightly to Daddy! Erik, just promise us that should Femke ever fall off, you won't make her wait long to be picked up!
Except for my wife, this wonderful old lady was the first passenger I took out on my bike, but that ride may just have been her last. I don't know this for sure because she just turned 90, still goes out into the yard to garden, and I'm afraid to tease her about taking a ride because she just might say "Yes!" again.....she's definitely a little old warrior and is in it for the long haul! :smoking:
I think I was 6yrs old and my father would sit me in front of him on the gas tank of his '83 VT750C Shadow and go for a short ride. It was great! He still has it too, doing a bit of restoring to give it to my older brother. Still get a kick out of riding that bike, probably just nostalgia.
