June | 2014 | Caged Moments

Blue skies, blue jeans and boots await me this weekend. It’s a perfect weekend to ride.

There will be dirt on my face.

During the last month, my 10-year-old daughter has spent only one weekend day with her dad. While I’ve recently begun riding with her on the back of my bike with more frequency (and I love that I can) it’s also true that I’ve been wishing for a childless day to be free to ride by myself. I love my babies more than life, and I enjoy and look forward to work-free/school-free time together. But, I still ache for some wind therapy.

The past few months have been some damn work. I’ve put on my game-face for life, even when I wanted to crawl inside myself. I’ve done all the things I’m “supposed to”, instead of sulking. I’ve completely behaved myself-outside of a few nasty text messages. I’ve not killed anyone. I haven’t packed up and moved away (even when it felt like that was an obvious solution), and I bought a punching bag…instead of the alternative (a throat punch to anyone who hurts my heart.) Homework is done, bedtime has been successfully met 90% of the time, the recital costume is neatly hung, tickets are purchased, I made the donation to school, attended the concert, booked seven-thousand summer camps and activities and baked the fucking cupcakes. And, in general, I suck at keeping shit organized at home. I should be able to take off for a day without feeling guilty, right? Obviously not, because I’m rationalizing the shit out of it.

There will be throttle in my fist.

I want to share my motorcycle journey with her, too. I want to take her places in a different way. I want her know no limits. I want her to create memories ON my motorcycle WITH me, and not associate the sound of pipes with someone taking off to ride for the day…without her. I want her to hear the bike warm up, and wonder “where are we going, today?”

There will be miles to cover.

I’m willing to forgo a ride on my bike, so that I can make sure we have a first-aid kit, cooler, change of clothes, and a friend to tag along when we go to the amusement park. I’m willing to leave the bike in the garage so we can take our dog Charlie to the beach. I let dust accumulate on the bike when it’s time to mow the lawn, build the new chickens a place to run, or fix the fucking steps. Again.

There will be worries to leave behind.

I’m admitting that I have been checking the weekend weather with frequency. This weekend, she’ll be spending full days with her Daddy…and Momma’s going out on the bike. I have no place to go. No place to be. No one to be accountable to. I won’t be able to answer the phone.

There will be thoughts to clear.

While I occasionally find myself pissed about his fancy-free way of life, which affords him last minute bike trips to anywhere with friends, weekends away to ride up north, jetting out at 7am to return at some after dark hour…I wouldn’t trade it for our world.

There will be wind in my ears.

I know, too well, that the days she wants to spend with me are limited, and that before I know it, I’ll have all my weekends to myself. I know that one day I won’t be needed much. I’ll eventually be an afterthought.

There will be sun on my face.

Everyone rides for different reasons. I’m not sure of my one why. There’s
solitude, independence, strength, and speed. There’s adventure, comraderie, and peace.

Riding my bike is something like therapy. Wind therapy. The difficulty with my kind of crazy is that worst-case-scenario planning is difficult on a bike. It requires fighting my own anxiety and thoughts about what could happen, and forces me to just see if it does happen. (My fear of needing help from someone else is greater than that of falling or an accident. It’s ridiculous. But, true.)

There will be heat between my legs.

Riding requires staying hyper-focused on everything around me. It requires so much concentration, that it’s difficult to give time or care to anything left back at home. There’s peace in noticing all the details…often at once. An orgasm of the senses, when sight, smell, sound and touch experience everything vividly in the sun. The details are brilliant from a saddle. The speed with which the trees pass, the sound of the gears shifting. It’s an exercise in awareness. The mind occasionally wanders from the road to the destination, and I pull it back in. Thoughts sometimes leave the tension in the clutch and the drag of the brake and wander out to notice a circling hawk. My mind can dart from the pavement and other motorists to the smell of the ocean, and back in the same second. Time on my bike is being truly present and in the moment.

And doesn’t the time go by as fast as those trees, anyway? For now, I’ll look forward to the days I ride, and cherish the ones I can’t.

This weekend, though…I’m skipping yard work, housework, and anything else that ends with or resembles “work”. I’m going to take in some sun, dirt and wind, and see where I end up.

There will be bugs in my hair.

If anyone wants to ride hot & dirty with me, let me know.

6/7/14 Update: This is what happened this morning:

For most well adjusted people, Facebook is a great place to stay in touch with schoolmates, coworkers, friends and family. We scroll through Facebook on lunch breaks, in traffic, or while waiting in line at Starbucks. (Some of you fucks apparently don’t have a job, or you’ve made updating Facebook part of your job.) We want to see what’s up, and break the monotony of the day up with some news, a chuckle, traffic updates, or schedule of events. Let’s face it, If there’s a pandemic or terrorist attack, Facebook users will be the first to know. We want to read about your band, fundraisers, ridiculous e-cards, bar crawls, or fitness classes. (Okay, not the last one, unless you fell in the class and someone took a picture.) For the most part, people use good sense. Sometimes, there’s some dumb shit, though. Here are 10 personal recommendations:

#1. Don’t have an identity crisis. I get it, they’re your life. But…you are not your kid. Are you having an identity crisis? Are you trying to confuse the rest of us? Why are you using your kid’s photo as your profile picture? Tell your toddler to get his own Facebook account. We love to see pictures of you and your kids doing fun stuff. We even enjoy reading stories and seeing pictures of their graduation, your trip to Disney, or the newborn photos. However, making your kid’s picture your profile picture because you can’t find one of your damn self is annoying. Stop it. It’s confusing and fucks me up when I see posts or comments. I want to see your face!

#2. Don’t confuse Facebook with your favorite porn site. Guys, when you “like” posts of half naked women posted by a group called something with “Big Boobs” in the title…you’re sort of an idiot. Everyone sees it, dumb-ass. Fix your damn privacy settings. You look like a basement dwelling hormonal 15-year old-boy. We went to high school together, I really don’t want to share in your love of big boobs. It makes me not like you a little. Not because you like big boobs, boobs are great, and I love them too. It’s because you look dumb and immature. Stop it.

#3. The status update option is not for your vagina. Ladies, ladies, ladies…you’re having a baby! Awesome! I’m super happy for you. Bringing a baby into the world is amazing. What’s not amazing is you “checking in” at the Ob/Gyn office every week and telling us what they’re doing to you. Every female here has had an internal exam. We know what’s involved. We want to experience that once a year. Just once. Announce your pregnancy, show us pictures of your growing baby belly, and tell us when she’s arrived. Facebook is not the place to invite others on the “What’s Happening to My Cervix” journey. If you want to share the evolution of the cervix through pregnancy, please start a blog. I’ll follow it…if you promise to post pictures. Your junior high friends thank you, in advance, for keeping your vagina, and your cervix, to yourself. Excellent.

#4. Respect the English language. Don’t write “of coarse” or “I seen it”. Ever. Merriam Webster is your friend.

#5. Don’t take pictures of yourself in a mirror. Who does that? Are you 11? Knock it off unless it’s fucking Halloween.

#6. Don’t rant about your ex. It’s tacky. So are the people who comment, encouraging you to continue the conversation and stroke your ego. (Remember, above, how I said “most well adjusted people”? Well, these people are not. Neither are you.) You obviously either have some shit to deal with…or you want to announce you’re single and back on the market. If it’s the latter, whoo hoo! Join Match.com. If you really need people to tell you what a great guy you were for taking your daughter to Jared to buy the ex a Mother’s Day gift, you need more than Facebook can offer. Oh, and by the way…your ex would have been happier with a hand made card and a wad of construction paper and glue. YOU’RE the only one who cares how much you spent.

#7. Don’t write messages to dead people…or God. Unless you really believe dead people read Facebook, in which case we probably shouldn’t be friends.). If you believe in God, I’m sure there’s a special place in Hell for people who skip mass for Facebook status updates.

#8. Don’t invite me to play games. I have a job. That is all.

#9. Be a good friend. Summer is near. Don’t tag me in a picture if I’m wearing my bathing suit. That makes you an ass-hole. I’m approaching 40. That shit’s just mean. In fact, ask my permission before you even post it. Bonus points if you Photoshop that bad boy or crop my fat ass out! This one probably applies to any woman, and gets you a throat punch if you don’t. You’ve been warned.

#10. Don’t be shady. Cryptic status updates like “I’m so annoyed!”, “I can’t believe this!” or “Worst day ever!” Are only helpful if you tell us why. Tell us why, damn it! We feel left out. However, If it’s the “worst day ever”, because you previously posted about an Ob/Gyn exam, please feel free to skip the explanation. We wish you well.

Happy posting, people! And, remember, I’d rather hear about what your daughter said while you were sitting on the toilet, over a picture of your way-too-neat family in your way-too-clean house anyday!