When Herself was a sophomore or a junior in college, she had her first ride on a motorcycle as a ride home from the house of a friend with whom she and a roommate had dinner. Her friend was a relatively new acquaintance, and Herself did not know anything about his driving skills, so she was a tiny bit apprehensive, particularly given the seemingly small bike. "Lean into the curves," was the sole instruction she recalls. Since she usually walked around the campus, the roads were unfamiliar and suddenly alarming. It was a brief trip, and rather frightening.
She did not get on a motorcycle again for twenty-five years.
Over a long weekend at the end of May of this year, Herself had an opportunity for her second ride. She, the Offspring, Beloved Husband, and Cherished friend went out to dinner, and Cherished Friend provided her transportation on his motorcycle. It was a completely different experience.
Herself was anxious, but far more in an anticipatory manner than in a nervous way. The bike was comfortable, the helmet reassuring. She was quite familiar with, and had great confidence in, Cherished Friend's driving skills, so she knew she was in good hands. The road was clear and open. And for a brief time, everything else was erased save for the rush of the wind, the headlight in the dark, the speed.
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
That was happiness.
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