Some people see motorcycles as a death trap on wheels. I’m not going to ignore the facts. Yes, there’s a danger when riding, but isn’t there a danger with everything? Any time you eat you could choke and die, but no one warns you against eating. Eating is a necessity. Riding is a necessity for me. It is my escape from the world. 

Painted yellow lines pass by my feet. My dark hair pinned back to avoid knots from the fierce wind. A wide smile is painted across my face like a child on Christmas morning. The wild wind of South Dakota makes my cheeks red. I grip the back of my dad’s old leather jacket. The rough material in my hands makes me feel safe, like nothing in the world could hurt me. There’s nothing for miles. Just winding roads, the rocks of Badlands, and us. My dad, me, and a Harley. 

Strange isn’t it? I feel the safest one a contraption that could kill me. At any moment, I could let go and jump, a car could slam into us, I could burn my leg on a pipe. But I’m here, so is my dad, my mom, and my brother. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never been taught to fear the beast. Maybe it’s trust for my dad, that I know I’m safe with him. It’s faith in God to look after us as I wear my blessed riding angel over my heart whenever I mount the ferocious monster. 

It’s my childhood friend. My dad’s Harley was my first bike. While most three-year-old girls find excitement with a Barbie doll. Not I. I found it riding up and down my quiet street. My first ride at three years old, made me feel like a free bird, flying through the air. Freedom in my eyes, joy in my heart. I’m happy, I’m safe, I’m flying. Now older and more mature I understand the dangers. I may no longer be that naive little girl, but I will always be that giddy spirit, riding the wind.