Weekend Riding

I can see Diana on the 800 pound vibrator she talks about, her weekend ride.

In full regalia, no less; two-toned black and red braided leather chaps, black boots, black vest, black gloves, and a partial face helmet.

It won't surprise me or fellow vanpoolers if underneath it all, she dons a thong (Size L) with my vibrator has two wheels emblazoned on it.

Routinely now with the good weather, she’ll announce to the van,

“I’m ridin’ this weekend.”

“Ridin’ dirty?” Martha will ask, on cue. She, of course would own one with a trailer large enough to fit her bag(s).

“Come, what may,” Diana will say, “I’m getting on that beast!”

To hear her describe the anticipated rides you’d think she was ringing in the New Year every weekend…with a bang! She certainly comes back on Monday looking brand new.

I listen keenly to her prep talk simply because I’m interested in folks and their ways and means to find thrills, and freedom. She’s certainly not an oddity in Atlanta, where bikers in unison regularly take the beasts between their legs on weekend parades.

Is there something about pointing and driving the machine on the open road that conjures up Steve Miller and

Abra-abra-cadabra
I want to reach out and grab ya
Abra-abra-cadabra
Abracadabra.

You know, when you've got your hand on the throttle, and your heading straight up the road; no lopsided nonsense; just gently guiding, balancing; dipping, banking, left and right...What is it about the beast?

Hebu, tell me...