A friend, Darrin, contacted me over the weekend, let me know that he was in need of a Mental Health Day, and did I want to tag along. Hell, Yes!!!

I am all for taking a day off for your mental health. I think that more and more employers should recognize this need and then people wouldn’t need to lie so many times about being ill. Mental health is as important, as physical health. There is even a whole post I could write on the ways in which mental health is closely tied into physical health. “Mind-Body Connection” The internet is full of articles on this; so I won’t add another one. Let’s just say that I not only believe in the phenomenon. I have experienced it. Hell, any woman who has birthed a child into the world, has experienced it.

Darrin arrived on time… (*I love that about a person, j/s*) his transmission down-shifting, as he glided into my driveway at 7:45am, waking up any neighbors who thought that they might sleep in on a summer’s morning. A bit of leg stretch for him, and a bit of double-checking of my home and needs for me… and after stopping to grab a bit of breakfast, to fuel our tanks.

We were packing up, and heading north, for the day’s therapy.

There is something that clears my head about a road trip. The kind that happen in a car. A train. A bike. Doesn’t seem to matter. So long as the pavement is moving beneath me, and the world is passing by; I am clearing out the junk that accumulates in my brain. My thoughts can go from one to another, without stopping. The back n forth. Back n forth. Back n forth, about any, and every subject, that is rattling around in my head. Almost the way that journaling does.

I appreciate that this friend can relate to this need for an open road and a full tank of gas.

Which is sorta funny that we ran out of gas on our journey. Yep. The classic, ran-out-of-gas, story. LoL

Hey, I think its funny. I even thought it was funny at the time. Darrin, not-so-much. He claims that in all of his life, he has never so foolishly run out of gas. Which makes me feel a bit bad for the fellow, though not for the situation we found ourselves in.

We off of the road. Coasted, since the engine stopped, and therefore we had no brakes. I figured that we were about 2.5 miles from Momma and Daddy’s house. So I called them. After I got Daddy to stop being upset at me for not being home, when he randomly stopped by to see me; I got him to confirm that Yes, there was a gas can, that I could use at his home. AND, it had fresh gas in it. 🙂 Score!

We pushed the bike further off of the road. Packed up the gear we didn’t want to haul on our trek. We got about 1/4 mile down the road, several cars and trucks passing us by, when a pair of bikers showed up. They slowed down. Stopped us. Questioned Darrin about the situation:
Was that your Such-n-such back there?
Run outta gas, huh?
Going down for some gas?
Got a tank?

I let them know that my Daddy had a tank, with gas in it, about 2 miles down the road. They offered us a lift down to Daddy’s home. I’m the only one who got on. Darrin decided to go back and stay with the bike. LoL Some men refuse to ride, on the back. Double-LoL

Al, an old-gnarly-seasoned biker, rode me down. I picked his bike, over his friend, John, because he had 2 foot pegs. John had lost one somewhere, and confessed that had he known he would be toting a pretty passenger, he would have made sure that it was on. Al didn’t seem to mind the way that I rode, squeezing with my legs and gently holding his waist with one hand. I’m grateful that my hair was up in a braid. The wind was making it fly around, a lot. I had left my helmet back with the bike, so this was a new one for me.

They patiently waited for me to fetch the gas can, and even rode me back down the road, to Darrin. They were kind to Darrin. Helping his bruised ego. Talking man-to-man; biker-to-biker, in ways that were not condescending; but understanding. They made sure that we were up and running. They even followed us down the road, but weren’t hounding or hovering.

True gentlemen.

I’ve said it before, I will preach it for decades to come – Bikers are some of the BEST people you will ever be privileged to meet, in your life.

Grateful for my 40 miles, and 45 minutes on the back of this bike this afternoon.  It was a much needed, albit much too short, bit of Wind Therapy.

Grateful for my 40 miles, and 45 minutes on the back of this bike this afternoon. It was a much needed, albit much too short, bit of Wind Therapy.

Trying to find a consistent riding partner, is like trying to pin down Maria. (*Sound of Music reference*)

While I appreciate that Skip showed up today… and trust me when I say that getting a guy to show up is half the freaking battle. I don’t know that this will be someone who is comfortable with taking me out, when he goes riding. He kept bringing up my riding style, and telling me to sit up against the sissy bar. I’ve never used a sissy bar before, because it wasn’t how I was taught to ride. It is more relaxing for me to sit against the rider. Something I get the feeling he is not so comfortable with. Which is perfectly okay. He doesn’t have to be comfortable with a passenger up against him in that fashion. He is allowed to be more comfortable with his passengers against the sissy bar.

We just are not a good match, that’s all.

Man Wanted

Let’s Be Clear:
Absolutely clear! I joined the Biker or Not website, to meet more people who ride.

I am not interested in helping you cheat on your wife/ girlfriend/ significant other/ or mother. I am just a girl, who wants to ride on the back of motorcycles.

I offer to buy gas / food / cold drink. I give great conversation and company. I know how to ride safely. Hold on without strangling. Lean with the motion of the rider, and keep my composure in turns.

I don’t have a bike of my own, and yes I know, at some point I should learn to ride my own…. but there’s something to be said for Riding on the Back. It requires a trust that comes from a special place. Very few have it. I’m looking for those people.

I’ve now ‘met’ over a dozen, so-called bikers; who state in the PM’s and Text messages, that they are happy with a platonic riding partnership. But show up and start drinking, before a test ride has even occurred. Start using their hands, in place of their eyes. And some don’t even bother to ride their bike. How are you supposed to give me a test ride, without bringing the bike? What do you think I’m there to ride?

I’m a girl who just wants to go riding with SAFE – SANE – DRAMA FREE – (gender really doesn’t matter)people. A nice Person that has a motorcycle backseat that isn’t currently occupied.

Is it really too much to ask?

Isn’t that what Mrs. Reagan was trying to teach me back in the 4th grade? I can remember her on the TV, in the cafeteria, with her red pencil skirt, white blouse and that really big froompy blue bow; spouting off to us kids how we should “Just say No” to drugs. Don’t I wish it was just drugs I had to say no, too.

I feel overwhelmed and need a break. A good long ride on a motorcycle. A good long day with the wind in my face, and the sound of thunder under my feet. A good long day with nothing but a rider, who will keep me safe and not ask me to talk about it all.

What I got today though was not those things, but another man who just wanted an easy fuck. Well maybe not an easy one, but a gal to date. I wanted a ride – he wanted a girlfriend.


For the 2nd and 3rd things I wanted – I combined them into 1. I got my ride and my dinner. I am so thankful for Wolf for being such a nice guy. Most guys, when they have to cancel, they simply walk away and you don’t hear from them for months! When Wolf had to cancel on Wednesday, which really totally upset me at the time, he rescheduled right away. I agreed to Friday, but inside wasn’t going to hold my breath.

Well Wolf was not like the other boys – he really showed up!

It was after he got off from work, and so we didn’t get to leave until after the sun went down. He warned me to bundle up, but I was ahead of him. I had my silkie long johns on under my jeans. I wore my wool socks, as 1 of the 2 pairs of socks. I had my wool sweater, along with my wind breaker, on. The only part of my body that got cold were my fingers. I had my gloves on, and one hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket, at a time. (*he is a large man, so I could only reach one side or the other*)

We rode out to New Symerna Beach, like we had before; but he took a different route. Which was fine, although I think I could have enjoyed the views more, if it had been light out still. I did enjoy the night sky and the fact that Wolf would point out the scenery when he wasn’t keeping us safe on the road.

We had planned on having dinner, then heading up the coast, to Bike Week, in Daytona. We never got past dinner. By the time we got there, we were both frozen to the bone. The restaurant had a great big open fire pit. Wolf made sure that we got to sit right next to it. He was old fashioned and helped me take my jackets off. Then even let me sit on the same side of the booth as him, so that we could both sit next to the fire.

We talked and ate, and enjoyed the fire until they were closing up. We watched them put chairs up, and start cleaning up the restaurant. That’s when we realized that we would have to do what we had both been avoiding. Going back outside! Its not like the air was getting any warmer as the hours passed by. So we eventually got up, paid the bill (*which he insisted upon*), bundled up, and got back on the Green-Eyed Lady.

I may not have gotten to bed until nearly 2am last night – but I am so grateful for the way that the Universe not only reminded me of things, but that it kept its promises afterwards.

Wolf's Green-Eyed Lady

Wolf’s Green-Eyed Lady

Nothing like putting 270+ miles behind me, along with all of the clutter in my brain. Riding is almost as good as journaling. LoL

I’m grateful to Wolf, yes, his real name for this journal; because the name his momma gave him, is one that I’m not even sure I’m pronouncing it correctly and definitely wouldn’t be spelling it correctly. Wolf, and I talked a bit, back n forth, last spring; about going out for a ride on his bike. But like most men, simply disappeared one day. No explanation. No forwarding address. No biggie.

Then a week ago, he reappeared from the foggy depths of the world, and asked if I was still interested in riding. I told him I was. Glad to hear that he hadn’t died in some freak accident, that never makes the papers. He laughed, apologized for his disappearance, and we agreed to have breakfast this morning. It was a lovely breakfast at Lisa’s. Although, I think that he was slightly disappointed to find out that I was in fact, Not Spanish… but American. *shrug*

We took a short test ride, around the block; and he was a good rider. He seemed to think I was a good passenger, and told me that if I had the time, we could keep going. I told him my curfew was 5pm… but he said, we’ll take it up north a bit, then let you decide. *shakes head* most riders don’t seem to understand that I can keep going, as long as they can. I don’t ever mind going, just a bit further down the road. See, I’m not the one who’s on ‘high alert’, always checking the bike, the road conditions, the other things AND people, around us. As the passenger, I get to relax and just enjoy the ride. I could do that for hours.

And yesterday, I did do it for hours. 🙂

After an hour, heading up SR19, we shot over to SR40, by way of CR445… we stopped because he had to pee. LoL Always the guys with the small bladders. He asked me how I was doing. I told him I was fine, so he said; “Okay, but don’t start complaining about wanting to be done, if we really head out from here.”

Again, we stopped because he needed to stretch his legs, not me. 🙂 He headed to the coast, where we go to ride up along A1A, and stopped to see the whale that was playing a bit off shore. We rode down to New Symerna where he took me to his favorite place to eat shrimp. I know why its his favorite. They are amazing! So sweet and perfectly fried.

He had me home a bit after my desired curfew; but that was fine. I still had time to do the responsible parent things, and such for my kids. Getting to buy things I needed for the birthday girl’s dinner and such. In the end, I gave him the highest compliment that I could. “I’d go riding with you again.”

Which if you know me, is high praise.


I got to take a bike ride today 🙂

I am so grateful for Bob, a guy I met on BoN, who is a good guy. A gentleman. Not quite a scholar, but a gentleman. lol And a damned good rider.

It was the 2nd time I’ve been out with him, on the bike. That’s saying something. Because of the 7 guys I’ve met on BoN – only 5 of whom showed up for that 1st ‘Meet n Test ride’ – he is only the 2nd one that I’ve gone back out with.

We took out his black bike… which is different than his silver bike. I know that the foot pegs are different. LoL Otherwise, they are the same to me. They each have a seat, and they each have the same driver, thus they are similar.

I drove up to his house in Bunell, about an hour’s north of here. From there he took me up A1A – which is the beach road. So I got to ride ON a bike, while also looking at the ocean. Can you say: 2Fer! *big grin*

We did a bit of the tourist thing, exploring the Castillo de San Juan. Which is reopened since I was there last. And they’ve done a great job, in my opinion. Showing the history, and a wonderful way of preserving those ‘personal things’ like when soldiers had made carving into the plaster of the walls. Then I dragged him down St. George Street, to see the homes my ancestors built.

We got pictures!

House to the east lived one family...

House to the east lived one family…

And the house right next door, housed the other.  lol

And the house right next door, housed the other. lol

Because Jorge married Margarita (*hence a part of my name*)

Because Jorge married Margarita (*hence a part of my name*)

While his sister, married her brother.  LoL

While his sister, married her brother. LoL

My paternal grandmother's family, the Acosta's came from here... and its where I get my Mediterranean coloring from.

My paternal grandmother’s family, the Acosta’s came from here… and its where I get my Mediterranean coloring from.

We had some lunch – and then drove back down US 1. Through a part of the St. John’s waterway, and makes me wish that I had brought my camera. It was so beautiful. Its one of the visual reasons why I love living in FL.

Around through Daytona Beach, which Bob tells me that he will absolutely escort me to one of the nights of Daytona Bike Week. Then back up along A1A again, to watch how the sun setting colors the ocean waves, in Ormand by the Sea.

Not once did I worry about being on the back of his bike either. He is a good rider, and controls his bike very well. He is confident in his abilities and it shows. At one point, coming back down US 1, a car to the left of us, in the median; decided to cut in front of us and go into a parking lot. At the same moment, a car in that same parking lot, decided to pull out and turn left. In front of us. Bob not only swerved easily, to dodge both moving vehicles; he did so, 1 to the right, then 1 to the left; turning on dimes. And in the process, he made me feel like it was a straight line. I never felt like I was going to fall off of the bike, or crash into anything.

I was humbled when he said that I had done a good job. All I had done was hold on, lean when the bike leaned, and let him ride us through it. He just said to me, “You’re a natural rider. I’ve never met anyone who could have done that on a second ride with someone. Its something that usually develops over time between a rider and passenger. That could have been very bad for both of us.”

Bob says that we rode 130 miles today… it felt like only 50. 60 tops! It was such a smooth ride and full of happiness. I told him that every Sunday should be a riding Sunday.