As I look back on my life, I have a lot of regrets. I regret letting fear hold me back from some momentous opportunities. I regret not following my gut instincts. But, then, if I'd followed my gut, I wouldn't have the four wonderful, intelligent, and creative children that I now have. They'd be different children, maybe nothing like the four on loan to me now.
If I had more courage, I would've started writing sooner. I would have explored this world more. For sure, I would have ridden a motorcycle much, much sooner. I also wouldn't have followed the crowd as much. That's a skill that we learn as we get older isn't it?
We all want to be different, to stand out in the crowd; bikers above all people, I think. Yet look at us. The vast majority of us wear black leather, black helmets, put patches on our vests to distinguish us from everyone else. I don't know about you, but, when I'm on a poker run or an organized ride, I can't recognize anyone from a distance until I see them on their bike. Even then I can't be sure. "Oh, yeah, I know him. Bald, goatee, smokes a cigar, has ape hangers on a black Road King." There are at least a dozen guys that match that vague description that I personally know.
It's easier to stand out as woman. Women comprise the fastest growing demographic in motorcycle purchases and riding. They're still in the minority around here. Sometimes they're praised, sometimes ridiculed. Sometimes we have to defend our choice of ride. Not all of us choose small, safe bikes. We ride pretty much anything out there, with regular bars, mini-apes, ape hangers, loud pipes, solo seats, equipped for passengers, you name it, there's a woman out there riding it.
Here I am, trying to live my life without regrets. It doesn't just mean rushing into something, it can also mean looking ahead, seeing the dangers, and choosing not to make that decision or take that path.
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