Yesterday, when reading the comments on whether I should ride across America or not with French Husband on my father's Harley,
I came upon my brother Mathew's comment which simply stated: RIDE.
My brother Mathew like my three other brothers are excellent motorcyclists. They have been riding since they were kids. They know the taste of dirt, have scars with stories and motorcycle trophies that can cover Glenn county twice. My father was deeply proud of them. I was a tad jealous of their bond, their passion for motorcycles, their Friday nights boy talks in the barn. But even though my father trained, fixed, worked, rode, raced, and fell with them on their bikes. I knew he had a trophy for me in his heart. I was his only daughter. That alone soothe any jealous thoughts I might have carried about my brothers shared passion with my father regarding motorcycles.
When my brother wrote:
"RIDE."
I felt he was somehow giving me permission to share the joy he knew with our father.
With a teasing heart I wrote back to him:
"Hey Mat
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Corey,
Yann should do it.
Maybe with you. You just have to stay awake.
You can document his travels on the blog from Willows or France.
Don't worry about rain. Riding is supposed to be gritty.
Accidents happen. You don't always die when you fall. Just get banged up a bit.
Yann won't ask you questions because you don't know the answers. Dad knew.
Getting lost isn't so bad. I mean trips like these are how you find yourself.
You know yourself but maybe you'll discover something small.
Brother Mat
The wheels are turning.
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Later I got out a map and started to pinpoint the places where most of you said you lived… NYC, Texas, Colorado; Arkansas, Alabama, LA Barrio, Dakota pass the badlands, Louisiana… the list went on and on and the pinpoints thicken.
French Husband came home and tried to wrap his belt around me… he said, "It looks like we are going on a little ride baby!"
My legs started wobbling, my heart raced… I don't know if it was because of the idea of going across America on a Harley, or… if the belt wrapped around me with his voice saying, "Baby…" one or the other or both did it?? I don't know, I'll let you decide.
When French Husband read the comments he yelled out, "ALASKA! One of your readers lives in Alaska! It is a sign."
Last night as I took a long hot bath, got into my nightgown and jumped into bed (I like to JUMP into bed, it makes me feel young.) I thought about camping, seriously camping… in the rain.
I brought my antique, linen, monogrammed, wonderfully clean sheet up to my chin and sighed, "Hey honey, you know someone commented that they would follow us with an RV, and my cousin Chris said he would help us plan the details, and many others said we could spend the night in their home…" But before I could finish my sentence… I stopped and thought out loud in a different direction: "This is a man who went to Malaysia for two weeks with a teeny tiny backpack that held a pair of underwear, no socks except the ones he had on, and a bag of peanuts. Who am I trying to kid?"
French Husband rolled over and grabbed me, "It is gonna be one wild ride sister, hold on!"
Notes: The photos above are of Sacha taken by Chelsea.
Thank you for your amazing response yesterday. If I go on this ride you can be sure I am going to stop in and say Hi! (Please have a cold beer or a hot tea ready depending on the weather!)
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