It’s amazing how things work out sometimes. When you’re least expecting something, suddenly it’s right there.
Years ago, I rode a motorcycle in the land I called home. An old BMW classic, Beemer’s, as we called them. The bike, however, was not mine. It belonged to a great friend who loved the ride so much, he taught me how to street ride. My friend and I would take the bikes out for a spin on those curvy, steep mountainous byways just to feel the spirit of freedom and the joy of being on the open road.
One of these afternoon rides landed us at a motorcycle store in a nearby town. Not being a “Harley Girl” myself, I was immediately infatuated with the stock in the Yamaha showroom. Gosh, they were so pretty! One little number caught my eye, a pretty and small purple colored bike, very shiny with the sparkling paint and bright chrome. A 1996 Yamaha Virago. Nothing else to do but plop right down in the seat just to see how it worked. Hooked! Lock, stock and barrel! YES! But, NO! I couldn’t leave with my own bike! That would be foolish and crazy. So I left that beautiful bike. It just weren’t the right time, not being a single mom, when needs were priority over everything.
Many years past but that bike was never forgotten. One morning I was chatting with a friend and the subject turned to bikes. Somehow in the conversation, he said he was going to sell one of his bikes, a 1996 Yamaha Virago. Do what? Seriously? Oh my gosh! Could I afford it? YES! It wasn’t purple but dark green, the same dark green as Bessie, the Toyota truck, that I’d had forever.
Little Miss Green Virago came home to be renamed Maggie. We became awesome friends! She could get a little moody when the red Kawasaki Ninja would show up but she adjusted. Kiddo thought it was the coolest thing in the world that his mom rode a bike, even more so that mom was a grandma!
Oh, the stories that will never be forgotten.
“Not all those who wander are lost.” J R R Tolkien