Biker Boomer Babe
Last year I took a motorcycle license class at the local community college, thinking I would buy a scooter. I would be the Biker Boomer Babe riding my scooter to the coast, my scarf floating out behind me like Snoopy in flight, or like one of those romantic heroine pilots in old movies whose movie lives ended in a fiery crash.
I came to class prepared with a knit cap such as burglars wear, black boots like the ones the goth girls wear, big sunglasses that I saw Diane Keaton wearing in a magazine, and a Ron Jon Surfshop sweatshirt from my last trip to Florida. Oh, and puffy gray winter gloves. Ready to ride!
During the classroom portion, I am the class ace! The instructor calls on me more than anyone. I’m sure it was NOT because I was the oldest person in the room, nearly the shortest, and certainly not because I had the cutest love handles of anyone there. But, classroom has always been a strength. The field was a different matter.
The college provides the helmets and the bikes. Big fat helmets that make you look like a bobble-head souvenirs from Ron Jon’s. Big fat bikes that require a short, pudgy old lady to stretch out her toes and fingers to reach everything. The right hand is in charge of the start button, acceleration and the front brake, the left hand does the clutch, the right foot is the back brakes, the left foot does some other damn things, all of it at once, while keeping your ass off the pavement on a surging, smoking, roaring, wobbly, tottering machine.The first time I fell off the bike the young people in my class all offered encouragement and consolation.
I am embarrassed to admit that after my third fall, I slunk home, unlicensed and bruised. Time for wine and a bath.
But I was invited for a ride this weekend by my good friend Shirley, a true Biker Boomer Babe. She came into a few dollars last year and instead of dumping them into some boring old 401K, she bought a trike. A three-wheeled motorcycle with two wheels in front and one in the back. She even has a ‘gang’, a friendly group she met through Biker Or Not.
Shirley provided me with a sparkly do-rag and a helmet that fit snugly to my head. We had a beautiful sunny afternoon drive through the backroads of Washington County, with people waving as we zoomed by. People see more of you on a trike, and, converesley, you can see more of THEM. We passed people with dogs, up close and personal. Speaking of personal, I swear I saw a man strolling naked in his backyard towards the hottub. Shirley wouldn’t double back to verify, but I know what I saw!
Shirley, A Real Biker Boomer Babe!
The trike has a very comfortable and ample seat, front and back. There is even a backrest for the person on the back, and handlebars on the sides for the passenger to hold onto. It was a very comfortable ride! Shirley’s trike will go 60 – 80 mph, and is much easier to operate and control than a regular motorcycle. No clutch to worry about and one brake action for all the wheels
When we stopped at Helvetia Tavern for dinner, everyone on the patio was gawking at the two Boomer Biker Babes, tossing our hair after the helmets came off! It was great!
Next time I take a motorcycle class, I’ll bring my own trike, my own helmet, and a sparkly do-rag!