Making a Connection

Ok, so far my blog has been very serious, talking about important matters, but it’s time to have a little fun.   A rather professional blogger (you know who you are) who was gracious enough to read my blog, pointed out that my blog name seems to have nothing to do with who I am.  Not true, but I haven’t shared the connection yet. 

Since I was about three, I’ve had a fascination with all things wheeled and motorized.  I know, maybe not so typical for a girl, but I liked dollies and girlie things too.  When I was 3, I decided I wanted to be a truck driver and truck oranges back to ND (my home state) from Florida.  No, that dream was never realized, but I believe it was manifested in several other ways.  When I was in grade school, it meant taping playing cards to my spokes to add a motor sound to my banana seat bike.  By the time I was in junior high, it meant putting on many miles snowmobiling across the frozen tundra in the heart of North Dakota’s farmland.  I couldn’t wait to drive a real car, so as I was approaching 14, I had a plan.  Don’t get me wrong, I was a having a good time tooling around on the garden tractor doing any imaginable task that my Dad might have for me, but quite frankly, I was ready for more.  You see, in North Dakota, because of the small population and prevalence of farm families, you can get a full-fledged driver’s license at the age of 14!  So it was definitely the place for a girl like me to grow up.  I went through driver’s ed in 8th grade, got my permit immediately and I was armed and ready with my driver’s license in hand by June.

Two years earlier, when I was 12, my Dad had purchased a brand new, shiny, red, 1979 Yamaha SR500F motorcycle.  I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that bike.  I don’t remember when it was that he finally let me drive it, but it quickly became my highly sought-after past-time.  Eventually, my Dad cut me off and said “You can’t ride anymore unless you get your motorcycle endorsement.”  And so I did, when I was 18 years old.  All those years ago and I still remember that day.  I was rather terrified, riding by myself out on the open road to a neighboring town 24 miles away to take my test to get the endorsement.  But I passed…  the first time around.  After I had left home, I never had my own bike.  So when I would come home and visit my parents, I would always take the bike out for a spin, secretly hoping that someday it would be mine.

A few years back, my Dad moved on to a Harley and the poor Yamaha didn’t get much attention anymore.  I offered to buy it from my Dad, and he said that if I had room for it in my garage, he would give it to me.  Well, I was out there the next day making room for my future bike.  Earlier this year, my dad trailered it to the Fargo area so my brother-in-law could work on it a bit and get it running again.  My big plan was to ride it back to the Cities from Fargo, but we had some fluid leaking out and a little smoke, so we decided to trailer it back to the Cities.  And so it goes…  all these years later, I’m a wife, a mom of four, in the process of adopting another child, and I’m a motorcycle owner and rider.  And that’s how I became Motorcycle Mama, according to my kids.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. David Sorn
    Sep 05, 2010 @ 15:36:49

    Good to know! I’m sure Pat will be happy to know. 🙂

    Reply

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