Hold On

[VFRbeliever]

I wasn't sure which forum to post this in, but as it is a ride report of sorts I chose to post it here.  Mods, feel free to move it if necessary.  

 

My daughter is a senior in college majoring in English.  We've had many, many good times together on the VFR and she chose to write a short essay about one of those rides as a class project.   It's a little longer than the average post but I felt compelled, with her permission, to share it.  Enjoy!

 

HOLD ON

I shrug on my mom’s old brown leather jacket, still slightly too big for me after all these years, and feel the silky lining rustling softly around my arms as I work the zipper up. Stepping out the door onto the front porch, I put on the helmet, red and black and decorated with scratches and the smears of mosquitoes who met with an untimely death. I skip down the porch stairs to the driveway, tugging on Dad’s worn leather gloves, black and red and patched with duct tape. The helmet’s cushiony interior crushes my hair into the nape of my neck. The snug fit makes my neck itch, but I don’t mind: in front of me, my dad is sitting on his motorcycle, its engine rumbling impatiently. I swing my leg over the back of the sleek red Honda, settle in the seat, and mirror my dad’s thumbs-up. With a quick rev of the engine, we’re riding off into the sunset.

            As we weave our way through my small town’s streets, the cool evening breeze rushes around me; the scent of a fresh summer night is intoxicating. Sometimes, if I tilt my head just right, the wind coming through my helmet sings. I can just barely make out the cricket’s chorus through the roar of the engine. We reach the outskirts of town; the winding roads cut through the open land that has replaced all the houses. Dad opens up the engine a little bit more, and we lean smooth and low through the curves of the roads, every turn bringing a new rush of adrenaline. Here on the back of Dad’s bike, surging up hills and gliding down them, powering through every twist of the road, I am almost on my own personal roller coaster; this one has no walls, though. I feel as free and as wild as the summer wind that surrounds me. The only things that slow our fun are stop signs and slow drivers, but they never hold us back for long.

            As the daylight continues to fail, we eventually make our way back home. Before we reach my neighborhood, though, Dad has one more thing planned for us. He takes us to the connector street that surrounds the mall in an oval; its shape resembles a race track. We’ve kept a good pace up until now, but that good pace is about to feel slow. He reaches back and tugs at my arm; he wants me to move my hands from the bars they’ve been holding onto on the back and reach around him instead. He’s done this before, usually with an accompanying, “Hold on!” Once he knows I’m tightly secured, he twists the throttle. The wind’s icy claws tear at my back as we pick up speed and tilt around the bend in the road, and every muscle in my body is clenched around the bike and my dad. I feel the tiniest twinge of fear along with the adrenaline pumping through me, but I don’t care. I close my eyes, and I’m flying.

            Soon, too soon, we catch up to the car that had been a good distance in front of us, and the moment is over. We meander back towards the house; we’ve been gone long enough that the sky has been painted a deep indigo by the time we reach home. My mom has left the light over the garage doors on for us, and it sweeps golden over the driveway pavement. We pull into the back of the garage; I hop off, Dad cuts the engine, and tonight’s four-cylinder symphony is complete. I take off the gloves, freeing my fingers to work at the helmet’s straps under my chin. Once the helmet is gone, I shake my hair loose and take off the heavy leather jacket. I smell like leather and engine exhaust, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Dad is taking his gear off, too. We make eye contact, and he gives me his traditional nod and grin; I smile in return,

            “Did you have fun?” he asks me unnecessarily; he knows I did.

            “Always,” I reply. He nods satisfactorily, and we walk back to the house together.

 

[65matt]

That's an essay that you'll treasure forever.  Thanks for sharing!

[RVFR]

Nice, For sure a reassure,  thanks for sharing.