i never understood the attraction of motorbikes, the old school ones are cool in a 50's diner looking way. however, the immediate association is an excess of mid life and menopausal flesh squeezed into leather (fringing is obligatory), tattoos of writhing mermaids, knock off oakleys and hulk hogan facial hair. i remember several vomit inducing drives up the 'tail of the dragon' in north carolina, watching aghast (with my head out the window sucking in fresh air) at the packs of harley boys vroom-vrooming their way up the seemingly neverending hairpin curves. death by 'motorcycle over cliff' holds no appeal to me whatsoever.
in the spirit of trying something new, i found myself bandana-ing up and donning a helmet so i could become the "bitch who fell off" or whatever the t-shirts in gatlinburg's finest biker stores have printed on them. natural consequences lesson #1: do not wear capris while attempting to mount a motorcycle as this exposes tender calf flesh to the hot metal exhaust pipe that apparently everyone else seems to know about.
while i am not ready to purchase boots, perm my hair into a frizz or wear studded leather accessories, it was an experience that can now be crossed off my list. good thing too as my mountain bike bruises were fading and now i have a nice, bubbly first degree burn the size of kansas that i can impress my friends with.