Tag: Women

7 Problems Women Motorcyclists Will Understand

7 Problems Women Motorcyclists Will Understand

Being a woman rider has its perks, but there are also some annoying problems that come along with it. Maybe men go through similar things, but well, I wouldn’t know!

Here are a few problems that I’ve run in to. Can you relate?


Those boots are awesome!

Too bad they don’t come in your size.

forma boots

Men don’t realize how good they have it with motorcycle boot selection. Particularly in the sport riding genre. Sure, there are women-specific, fully-featured sport boots available, but the choices are significantly fewer than what’s available for dudes.

Many men’s premium sport-style boots could be considered unisex when they offer smaller sizes. But, smaller often means that they start their sizes at 39 or 40, leaving ladies with little tootsies in the lurch.

Luckily, I can wear a 39 or 40 depending on the brand, so I have more options than some women do. But actually finding my size readily stocked and available can be another matter.


Hey, I’m going to run over to [insert local shop here] and try on some jackets!

Just kidding. They don’t have anything in my size.

I get it. Most places can’t afford to stock all sizes and styles for all bodies, especially when online shopping takes such a bite out of their sales. But, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.

Having to buy expensive garments is a commitment. When you’re going to spend upwards of $300 on something, not having access to try things on is disappointing. I’ve got a Cycle Gear and a few dealers within a half-hour from home, but they NEVER have anything in my size or style.


Boob sweat – it’s a thing

fuzzygalore ice pack

Summer in a motorcycle jacket is hot. Everywhere.


When ya gotta go

You’ll probably end up having to hold it for a while

you cant pee for free sign

Full disclosure: I’m not an adventurous pee-er. I’ve never developed the ability to scurry behind some bushes or opt for a funnel-type device to find sweet relief. Granted, I’m never really out in the backcountry, either. No, I’m an indoor plumbing kinda girl.

The state of public restrooms here in the good ole US of A can be pretty abysmal. I’ve walked in and immediately out of some filthy spots. While I’m out riding around, the places I most frequent are gas stations. These can be hit or miss on cleanliness and paper stock. Large chains like Wawa, Sheetz, or QuikChek are usually pretty good. But some rinky-dink station with a key chained to a plank of wood that requires you to go around the back of the building? Bad times.

Ugh, don’t even get me started on the porta-potties.

It isn’t uncommon for me to find myself holding out for longer than I probably should because I’m a bathroom princess.


OMG, I can’t even.

my boyfriends bike meme

Seriously, STFU.

See also:

  • Isn’t that a big bike for a little girl like you?
  • Wow, you rode that here by yourself?
  • You ride pretty good for a girl.

Oh, you like our men’s gear? We make a version for women, too!

But, without all of the high-end bells and whistles.

fuzzygalore klim altitude pants

For cryin’ out loud, why can’t all of the awesome features be equivalent on top of the range items for men and women? Things like: arm and leg cinching straps, vents, knee puck velcro patches, and functional pockets.

Pockets! Tell me what good a single slash pocket that can only hold my chapstick is on a pair of adventure pants. I mean, c’mon!

If the men’s high-end adventure pants have calf-level velcro straps to tighten the legs up a bit, why wouldn’t you think that the women’s equivalent would benefit from the same?


When You’re a Stranger – Following Me Home Isn’t Cute

It’s Frickin’ Creepy

fuzzygalore's triumph bonneville

Why a stranger would follow another motorcyclist to a residential area is beyond me. I’m not sure what the expected outcome is, but the reality is that it creeps people out.

Not only have I had someone follow me to my driveway, but last year I had a man in his car follow me to talk about my Bonneville. Both of those situations turned out fine, but the opportunity for them to go badly is clearly apparent.

On a less creepy but still unusual note, a couple of weeks ago, a man whom I spoke to briefly several years ago at a bagel shop 25 miles from home, recognized me. He spotted me from behind, in my work clothes and different color hair, while I stood at my mailbox. He turned his motorcycle around and came back to talk to me as I walked up my driveway.

If he knew where I lived, maybe it wouldn’t seem so odd. But placing me so far away from the spot in which we met, and looking rather differently makes it seem less likely.

When we’d met, I was dressed in my riding gear and I wore a baseball hat. I still don’t know how he recognized me. I didn’t recognize him but did recall the conversation we’d had when he reminded me.


How about you?

Do you find yourself having lady motorcyclist problems? Comment below.

XX-Files: Women in Out of the Way Places

XX-Files: Women in Out of the Way Places

When I finally got to a clearing where I could see a view of the valley, I’d traveled a couple miles down a long gravel road. There, a single empty car was parked off to the side. Standing alone and taking in the view was a young woman. We gave each other a cursory acknowledgment and continued doing our own things.

Immediately, I was surprised to see a lone woman out there. Isn’t that funny?

What did my surprise mean? Obviously I know that women do things by themselves. Am I just not accustomed to seeing them in out of the way places? Aside from surprise, I also had a sense of pride that caught me off guard. There was no one out along a dusty, dirty track but us. Neither of us special, or superhuman, or anything. Just two average girls, being normal in the world.

Clearly, I need to see more solo women out doing their thing. So much so that I won’t even pick up on the fact that they’re women. Get to it, ladies!

Full Tank of Gas, Wandering Heart. Pretty Dresses Will Have to Wait.

Full Tank of Gas, Wandering Heart. Pretty Dresses Will Have to Wait.

When I left aboard the ferry on Sunday morning, I still had to shake the sleep loose from my eyes. Though I’d been awake for hours and wanted to go riding, I wasn’t exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Some days you just aren’t “on.”

After loading into the belly of the beast, I went up stairs and stood on the back deck of the boat. The shoreline slipped away in our wake. A man and woman stood close together at the railing. As they talked he kept reaching towards her, his hand brushed across the small of her back, his fingers moved along her arm – they shared a deep connection.

She was lovely – golden blonde hair swept back in a carefree way, loose strands dancing on the breeze. Her skin was tanned like honey and her green stripey sundress fluttered in the wind. The two of them flashed smiles at each other as though no one else in the world existed. I felt like a voyeur observing a secret held between the palms of two perfect people.

Watching them made me feel lonely. Nine o’clock on a Sunday morning is way too early for those types of feelings.  That sleepy residue that was hanging around seemed to amplify everything I was feeling 10-times over.

It was hard not to want a taste of what was shared between those two people. Instead, I stood alone and staring, burdening myself with doubt. Rather than feeling like a superhero about to embark on an adventure, in my riding clothes I was dirty and man-ish and gross when I just wanted to be the beautiful girl in the stripey green dress. I believed in the green dress.

Fuck.

Sometimes it’s hard to reconcile that you can’t be the girl in the dress and the girl in the dirty superhero riding suit at the same time. But as much as I lamented wanting to be that beautiful girl, I’d made my choice long ago.

Full tank of gas. Wandering heart. Pretty dresses will have to wait.

 

Lunch with 3 Kick-ass Motorcycle Women

Lunch with 3 Kick-ass Motorcycle Women

While I struggle to find the thread of a full blog post, I just have to share Leslie’s photo from Facebook and Madeline’s from Instagram of our lunch meeting on Sunday.

I’ve talked before about searching for women motorcyclists and bloggers that speak to me, that I can identify with. Well, I’m finding my tribe. One amazing broad at a time.

 

Ural Riding with Carla King – American Borders

Ural Riding with Carla King – American Borders

Carla King American Borders Book

I finally picked up a copy of American Borders by Carla King. It is the saga of her circumnavigation of the United States on a then newly imported Ural sidecar rig.

In just the first chapter there was romance, motorcycles, adventure and awakening… can’t wait to see what the rest of the tale has in store!

Have you read American Borders?

%d bloggers like this: