Roundtable

The Reluctant Rider

Susan Semack

“I’m never going to ride a motorcycle.”  I’ve said that more than once in my life.  I’m just not interested.  Besides, it’s a little scary.  When I was sixteen, my mother told me I could not ride on my boyfriend’s Yamaha.  That was after she knew I did it once.  And actually, once was enough.  It was kind of fun, but it was easy for me to obey my mother this time.

Years later, my husband-to-be showed me a BMW motorcycle under a blanket in his garage, and regaled me with tales of a trip across Canada.  Yet, the garage was over-full, and we had a wedding to pay for.  Luckily for me, the bike was sold without my ever riding on it.

More years later, “Motorcycle Fever” reclaimed my husband, and he began collecting Harley-Davidsons.  “OK, that’s fine,” I thought.  I’ll get some leather clothes and ride on the back.  But clearly, I’m a passenger, not a rider.  A passenger gets honorary membership into “the club.”  Riders are nice to you, but you’re not one of them.  It’s kind of like being the “Little Sister” to the Fraternity.  You can come to the parties, but you don’t know the secret handshake.  This should work fine for me as I like to keep a respectful distance from the throttle and the shifter.

I did come to enjoy riding with my husband on his comfortable touring bikes.  In fact, one of the most memorable experiences of my life was riding to the Harley-Davidson 95^th Anniversary celebration in Milwaukee in 1998.  The throng of bikes and like-minded people were overwhelming.  It was a virtual love-fest.  The town and Company loved the bikers, and the bikers loved the town and the Company.  The joy and goodwill were palpable.  I saw and felt the “spirit” of motorcycling. Even from my “Little Sister’s” viewpoint, I could see and appreciate what makes bikers special and different.

My resolve to stay on the outskirts of motorcycling began to crack, however, and I eventually signed up for the Harley-Davidson Rider’s Edge course at the local dealership.  There were only six students in the group, but I was the only one with NO rider experience. While the others were looking to brush up on skills so they could confidently enjoy motorcycling, I was trying to figure out how not to get killed.  To say the least, I was apprehensive; only a short time prior to this class I could not have imagined myself a rider.  I approached the class with caution and reserve, but mixed with excitement to learn something new. After two days of classroom discussion and videos, the coursework started.  My excitement gave way to pure nervousness. 

The instructor provided everyone in the class a small journal and encouraged us to record our experiences during the process. Here is a sampling from my journal:  “Kept stalling, couldn’t get it in gear”;  “I don’t like this.  My shifter hand is falling off.”  And my personal favorite, “Tipped over.”  It so happens I was the only one to “tip over”—three times.  Apparently, there is some rule about not using the front brake while stopping with your wheel turned.

I did pass the course test (no tips) and received a piece of paper that said I knew how to ride a motorcycle. Apparently the instructor felt more confidence in my skills than I did.  But even I recognized how far I had come.

I bought a Buell Blast, and had my husband ride it to a deserted parking lot for me to practice in an unobstructed setting.   Did I mention I was still nervous?  Slowly, I gained confidence in my fledgling skills.  It was hard work.  After several sessions, I ventured on to the roads, slowly incorporating new driving scenarios. 

I’ve been riding for four years now (although “year” is a misnomer for the riding season in Michigan), and I do enjoy it.  I enjoy that I can ride, that I worked to be good at it, and that it feels powerful.  I enjoy being a part of what biking symbolizes.  I enjoy sharing the experience with others who love it. And I’ve learned a lot from bikers:

It doesn’t matter who you are, your biker-ness supersedes all other characteristics.  No matter your background or gender, all are equally accepted as having earned entrance to the “club.”

Most bikers are serious about riding.  They are disciplined.  They walk the talk about safety and concern for self and others, and as a woman, I appreciate this.

And while they embrace each other, they celebrate their separateness from the rest        (read “non-bikers”).  Being a biker is special. And within the group, they celebrate uniqueness and individuality.  Have you ever seen two bikes that are exactly alike?!

So, while I came to the sport slowly, I have arrived, and I’m glad.  As I experienced first hand at the Harley-Davidson 95^th Anniversary, I enjoy being a part of the motorcycling community, to be a part of the camaraderie.  I now ride a 100^th Anniversary edition Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail, and I feel empowered by riding my own bike.  I’m proud that I learned to ride, and feel special being a woman rider.  I ride to fit in and to stand out.  Women can have it both ways.

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