On Tuesday evening, I rode over to my friend Bill’s place because he needed a lift to satisfy a dream and pick up a beautiful new to him CBR XX Blackbird. After giving him a proper warning that I could indeed be the world’s worst passenger I climbed up on to the pillion seat of my own bike. This is definitely a perk of knowing a girl that rides. Riding bitch on another guy’s bike is something that most of the men I know wouldn’t do unless they were responsible for transporting vital organs to the hospital to save 38 orphans, 2 nuns and a priest at that very moment. Even then I think they’d probably ride waaaaaaay back on the seat while covering their faceshield.
Being a passenger is mentally exhausting! Do people ever make a comfortable transition from rider to pillion or am I just a nut? The internal dialogue in my helmet went something like this:
Hmm, ok. Where the hell am I supposed to put my hands?
Ugh, it probably feels like having a circus elephant balancing on ball with me back here.
Oh no, am I leaning too much? If I don’t lean will I feel like a bag of cement back here?
Oh boy, I’m pretty sure that car is going to merge into us.
Twenty not-knowing-where-to-hold-on minutes later, we pulled up to the sellers house and hopped off the bike. As we stood there pulling our helmets off in the evening sun, just fifty feet stood between Bill and his black beauty. I felt pretty fortunate to watch a desire that has been burning in a man for just about as long as I have had the pleasure of calling him my friend, finally come to fruition. Getting the things that you want in this life, material or otherwise can be so satisfying.
Many more happy, safe miles to you, Bill!