In the very first paragraph of Private Property, I have my heroine, Jodi, hearing the distinctive sound of a Harley approaching. Little did she know she was about to meet the rider – Sam. And little did I know that Guitar Hero would soon be plotting to get his own motorcycle.
Oh, not a Harley, they’re too darned expensive. He’s thinking of an older Honda with just over a 450 cc engine. Something maneuverable for in-town use. For starters.
He’s been studying the Motorcycle handbook to get his M1 (learner’s permit for motorcycles), and has enrolled at the local college who hold a Motorcycle Training course that ends with the student taking the test for their M2. (Next stage in their license which means the person can drive at night, etc.)
The mother in me is panicking. “OMG OMG OMG he’s going to get in a crash and get hurt. Motorcyclists never fare well when they crash.”
But everyone I talk to shrugs it off. My friends remind me that their parents drove hogs, or their brother or friend rides a motorcycle and they’re fine. The one person I felt certain would back my paranoia – my mother – reminded me that my uncle drove a motorcycle (and sidecar) for years. And then she related how her friend’s son drove one from Lindsay to Markham (that’s 97 kilometers one way) every day for years. Even through the winter.
Oy. Oy. Oy.
“Besides with the price of gas these days,” she continued, “it’s a fairly sensible decision.” In other words, no one else seems to be worried. So I’m having to tone down my motherly neuroses.
As part of trying to force myself to accept his decision and be a supportive Mom, yesterday I took Guitar Hero to the local Harley Davidson store so he could buy a helmet (just like the one above) As he was trying the different sizes and types of helmets on, the lady murmured “don’t worry, everyone looks like the Great Gazoo.” GH later told me that was exactly what he’d been thinking he looked like.
Anyway, while he was examining the full leather gloves and proper motorcycle sunglasses he’ll need, I wandered around the massive store examining the brand new bikes. Learning terms like Dyna and Softails. Noticing the difference between Sportsters and Touring bikes. And while I was there, I spied several that I could definitely see Sam riding wearing his black leather pants.
Massive. Black. Powerful.
Not one of those the riders hunch over the handlebars and weave through traffic, but where they sort of lean back, and have their legs sticking out. Laid back. Except I don’t see Sam riding a brand new bike, he’d have a classic motorcycle. One that would have a lot of power between his legs. *snicker*
I find it easier thinking about that than the mental images of car meeting motorcycle. Because in those? The car ALWAYS wins.