Getting into this whole riding thing
So, this idea popped into my head. You see these images, right? Motorcycle chicks. Leather, cool bikes, wind in the hair. Looked like freedom, I guess. Or maybe just something different. I was bored, probably. Anyway, I thought, why not me? Seemed simple enough on screen.
First thing, reality check. It ain’t like the movies. You don’t just hop on. Nope. Had to get the license first.
- Signed up for a course. Weekend thing.
- Sat in a classroom. Rules, regulations. Zzzzz.
- Then the practical part. On this beat-up little bike in a huge parking lot.
- Felt like a total idiot. Wobbling around cones. Dropped the bike. Twice. Embarrassing.
- Passed the test, somehow. Felt less cool, more relieved.
Next step: Gear. This part surprised me. It wasn’t about looking badass. It was about not scraping your skin off if you fall. Which, after the course, seemed pretty likely.
Spent way more than I expected. Helmet, proper jacket with armor pads, gloves, sturdy boots. Suddenly felt less like a carefree rider and more like a weird astronaut. The “cool leather jacket” idea? Yeah, mine was textile and heavy. Practical, not stylish.
Finding a bike
Okay, got the license, got the gear. Now the bike. I pictured something sleek, maybe a bit retro. Went online, looked around. Everything was either too big, too fast, or too expensive. Talked to a guy who rides. He just laughed at my choices.
Told me to start small. Sensible. Reliable. Found this used thing, kinda scratched up, not very flashy. But it ran, and the price was right. Felt a bit disappointed, honestly. Wasn’t the dream bike. But hey, it was a start.
First real rides. Not roaring down highways into the sunset. More like puttering around my neighborhood, trying not to stall at traffic lights. Stalled it. A lot. Got honked at. Fun times. Every ride was nerve-wracking for weeks. Checking mirrors constantly, scared of cars, scared of gravel, scared of my own shadow.
Where was the cool “motorcycle chick” thing? I was mostly just sweaty inside the helmet, konzentrating super hard not to mess up. Hair? Total mess after taking the helmet off. Freedom? Felt more like intense focus mixed with low-key panic.
So yeah. That’s the process. It wasn’t instant cool. It was learning, practicing, feeling awkward, spending money on safety stuff, and starting slow. Still riding that sensible bike. It’s okay. Sometimes it feels good, out on an open road. But it’s not the image I started with. Not even close. Just me, the bike, and trying to stay upright.
