The Reluctant Wife

I've been married for almost 17 years but, for the majority of that time, I did not own a motorcycle. I had ridden for years before meeting my wife. Then, I had a '91 "Hugger" Sportster. I believe this was the last year that the Sporties actually had a chain. Regardless, my wife knew that I had ridden but she had never ridden with me before. I always knew I would get another bike, but life sometimes can get in the way.

So when the opportunity presented itself, I was more than ready to hit the road again on two glorious wheels. I approached my wife on the subject figuring she would be delighted. We are both somewhat free spirits and I figured it was time to introduce my motorcycle prowess to the marriage. I was wrong. Not only was she dead set against my purchasing a bike, she threatened that if I did buy it, she would never set her butt on the passenger seat. Roughly two weeks later, I was sitting in the saddle of my silver bullet.

Having only driven a Sporty, I was much more used to a sleek, light bike. But I felt I was ready for the increase in weight. Again, I was wrong. The Fatboy was probably a good 200 lbs. heavier than the Hugger and it took a little getting used to...OK, it took A LOT of getting used to. But I was determined that I would be racing this baby down the straight-away in no time and tame the beast to my will.

I hit the road every chance I could get and put over 1,500 miles on the bike before the summer was out. My wife took this all in her usual calm and stoic manner. Even amid my overly frequent requests.

"Heading out east for a ride today. Wanna come?"

"I said I wouldn't ride. I wasn't kidding."

"OK. I'll be home by dinner."

We played this cat and mouse for most of the summer. But I could tell she was starting to break. Her protestations of "it's not safe" were becoming weaker and she knew it. She used to ride with an old boyfriend so I knew this was just cover. She was trying to make a point. I was busy enjoying the ride.

Riding Gear for the Not-So-Timid

So one fine weekend, it came to pass that we both had nothing to do. No scheduled plans with friends. No visits to the in-laws. Nothing. It was a glorious summer's afternoon and I knew she was weak.

"I think we should go for a ride."

"I told you it's not safe."

"I know but, c'mon. I've logged more than 1,500 miles on that beast and I haven't spilled yet."

"It's not you I'm worried about..."

"C'mon, it'll be a quick ride. We can just cruise around the neighborhood and turn back whenever you're ready."

"I don't know. I'll have to get changed. I have to dig out my boots..."

"You're fine in just what you're wearing."

OK, it was a lie. She had on paper thin capri's and strap sandals. If I dropped the bike, she could shred that beautiful skin or, God forbid, break a bone or lose a limb. I have enough biker friends who can attest to that kind of damage. But I wasn't going to dampen her mood. We were going to ride and I'd throw myself on the street to protect her if need be. Nothing was going to hurt her today. So off we went. Sandals and all.

I drove out of the driveway leaning the whole way and she leaned with me. It felt as if there was nothing there. She was a natural passenger. We moved in unison.

Beauty

I was 10 miles out of the neighborhood streaking east on 25A before I felt her tapping on my back. Damn! She wants to turn around already! And we were having such a good ride. I pulled over into a clear shoulder of the road.

I dismounted and faced her. "You OK?"

"I think the straps are going to give me a funny tan on my feet. Do you think it would be ok if I took off my sandals?"

In marriage, there are those fleeting moments when you look at your spouse as if for the first time. I couldn't have loved her more in those few seconds. I stashed the offending sandals and we rode all the way out to King's Park on the north shore of the Island. We drove down by the Sound, across the grounds of the now abandoned Mental Hospital, past the church where we were married. It was a wonderful day.

She never made any complaints during or after that ride. If I invite her on a ride now, it's usually a single nod, followed by "OK."

The Beast

So for all you bikers out there who have a reluctant rider, my advice can be summed up in one word: patience. If it's going to happen, it'll happen. After 17 years of marriage, I've learned two things:

1) She'll do what she wants when she's damned good and ready.
2) An ape like me is very lucky to have an angel like her.