I think it's funny that Mike and I have our own website devoted to motorcycling. Cool.....but if you would have asked me five years ago about my passion, motorcycling would certainly not have figured into any answer that I would have given you. My back story isn't nearly as colorful as Mikes, but I'll share what I have.
When I was growing up in Southern California, my next door neighbors were a motorcycling family, and Mary was my best friend. She lived with her mom, Rosie, her dad, Gene and her older brother, Richard. Rosie, Gene and Richard all had HD's. Huge, shiny bikes that were the center of their week end lives. Almost every Saturday morning, I would awake to the roar of pipes as the family took off on unknown adventures, only to return on Sunday evenings full of stories. I'd sit in their garage, grab a cloth, and help them wipe down their bikes as they talked of highways, friends, destinations and plans for the following week end. I loved the smell of their garage. Grease, paint, wax and carbon.....some of the sweetest smells in the universe. They were always tinkering with their bikes (now that we own three, I understand WHY they spent every possible moment with their machines), tuning pipes, touching up dings, installing the latest and greatest piece of chrome, waxing them until you could see the other side of the planet in the paint, or just running their hands over the leather seats, gas tanks and handle bars.
When I was about 12, the family began inviting me to join them on their overnight outings. My mom hated the thought of me jumping on a motorcycle and "tearing around the countryside", but I was relentless and she reluctantly let me join them on occasion. I never had a fear of safety, and I loved jumping behind Gene and wrapping my arms around his ample middle as we headed down the road. I thought it was so fantastic that the three bikes rode in formation, with Gene leading the way. Mary would ride behind Rosie, and Richard would ride alone, or occasionally he would take another of our friends, Ronnie, on the back of his bike. We would ride for a few hours, only stopping for gas and water. I came to love the rhythm of the road, the exposure to the elements, and the powerful feeling of a big engine between my legs. We had some grand adventures together.....and I came to understand that the ride was the goal, while the destination was just somewhere pretty to rest a bit. We never wore helmets or gloves. My riding was done over summer vacation, so we all wore shorts, tank tops, sandals and a bandanna wrapped around our heads. The thought of that just makes me laugh today. No wonder my mom was nervous!
My mom had a friend, Lee, who bought a little Honda and went bonkers over it. The motorcycle bug bit him hard, to say the least. He rode that bike everywhere, and I loved it when he would come and visit. I was 17 at the time, and had stopped riding with Mary's family long ago. I would run out to greet him when he "beep-beeped" down the drive, because that was his signal for "wanna go for a ride?" Mom never did mind me hopping on his bike. It was much less intimidating than the HD's she was used to seeing me ride. Lee and I would head out of the city, try out new routes in the San Gabriel mountains, and "whoo hooo" all the way through the twisty curves. One of my favorite rides was on the then uncompleted Antelope Freeway. We'd slither our way around the barriers, haul ass down the deserted smooth concrete until it ended abruptly in a steep drop off into nothingness. We'd sit there at the edge and sometimes watch the sun drop off the horizon. So you see, at a very early age, motorcycling helped to satisfy an intense desire I've always had for speed, exposure to the elements, and adventure.
When I tumbled into my 20's, motorcycling was over for me. I was into protesting the war, moving to a farm in Southern Oregon with three other "free spirits", making and selling pottery at the local Saturday Market in Eugene and living the bohemian life. That faded in my mid 20's when I "mainstreamed" and began working in retail, which, eventually, led to a banking job in Portland, Oregon. I stayed with the bank for 10 years, had a daughter, and got my dream job at Nike, the Sports and Fitness company, when I was in my late 30's. No motorcycle riding for me until my daughter was five. She had a playmate that lived a couple of houses away from us and I became friends with her parents. They had a couple of Honda three wheelers. They would talk about how much fun they had camping at Sand Lake, riding the dunes to the ocean and spending week ends carving the sand. My daughter and I began accompanying them on their week end jaunts, and I quickly learned to ride those three wheelers. I'd put Jane, my daughter, in front of me (again, no protective gear whatsoever.....what was I thinking???) and we'd tear up the steepest dunes and descend, in fifth gear, until we hit water. Then we'd turn the bike around and scream up the other side. Stephanie's (Jane's friend) mom and I had the same body types - tall, very lean and light, and strong. We were proud of the fact that we could beat most of the men on the dunes. We'd instinctively stand and start moving the bike from side to side and kick it into third and carve our way to the top very quickly. It was a blast! The fun was over when the family moved out of state, and I really didn't think of motorcycling again. Years passed. Then I met Mike.
We really didn't talk about motorcycles (owning them, that is) until a couple of years ago. I really don't remember how or why we ended up in a HD dealership one day, but there I was, surrounded by these pretty motorcycles. We were in Santa Cruz to get hair cuts (any excuse to go to the beach) and the dealership was across the street. They had old bikes displayed, and I saw the identical bike that Rosie, Gene and Richard owned! All those memories flooded back into my consciousness, and I think that Mike saw that light in my eyes. He must have known at that moment that he "had" me! Conversation began turning into serious motorcycle madness (in other words, he couldn't tell me enough how he'd love to have another bike). I love to "window shop", so it was fun visiting various dealerships, imagining myself riding behind him, talking the good talk, dreaming.....but I also didn't think that owning a motorcycle was a practical use of our hard earned money. They were dangerous. They were expensive toys. They were seasonal, at best. It didn't matter. Once Mike latched onto his dream, he was determined to make it into reality. He also presented a good argument, with enough statistical evidence to back up his words and wear me down. Tiny cracks were forming in my resolve. When we walked into a local Honda dealership and we saw the 2003 Illusion Blue Gold Wing for the first time, I actually heard it calling to him. We sat on her, and Mike couldn't help but wrap his arms around her. He was gone, and I knew at that moment that there was another woman in his life. Thankfully, she weighs 800 lbs. and is blue, but the love affair is going strong!
I'm four years older than Mike, and I like to think of myself as four years wiser. I decided that, for his 47th birthday I was going to get that IB Gold Wing for Mike. I was very sneaky. We were on Whidbey Island, WA, celebrating his birthday with his family but I wanted him to have his motorcycle. I placed a brochure, complete with a picture in the correct color, in his birthday card and simply gave him permission to "ride his dream". You should have seen the look on his face! I have never seen him so surprised and delighted and I doubt I ever will again. When we came home, he immediately went to the dealership and picked up his "Dori". That's her name. It's even on the license plate "IB Dori".
I decided that it was going to be tons of fun being a back seater. I'd jump on the bike at a moment's notice, never thinking about protecting myself. Mike insisted on getting me a full face helmet and gloves and he also insisted I wear them whenever I rode (CA has a helmet law, anyway). I only wore a jacket when it was chilly, and I wore athletic shoes most of the time. Mike always wore full protective gear, but was really good about not pressuring me into following his lead. He knew that, eventually, I'd come to my senses! Our first meet was in Visalia, CA, a few months after we got the bike. I loved visiting the vendors, and began to envision what I wanted for Dori. Mike and I talked about chrome and lights. We poured over catalogues and spent many hours selecting items to personalize her. I love accessorizing her, and I think she's the best dressed bike in the world!
We had plans to attend the 2004 Wing Ding in Dallas, TX. I thought it might be a good idea to take the MSF course, just in case there was an emergency while we were traveling and I needed to take the controls. Mike, of course, thought that was a GREAT idea! I took the course in March '04, aced the written exam and FAILED the practical course. I was so frustrated that I couldn't stay in the figure 8 box, that I thought I had flunked the test. The last skill that was evaluated was accelerating through a curve, and I was one defeated woman as I rounded it, forgot to look through it, and missed going through the cones at the end of the skill. That self defeating attitude cost me a passing score. If I had not given up during that last skill, I would have gotten my license. I felt horrible, but I learned a valuable lesson. Needless to say, I stayed in the back seat on our trip to Dallas, but I had an absolute blast! The course instructors were kind enough to let me take the practical course again, but I had to wait one year to complete it, which I did, of course!
Somewhere along the line, I really got the bug to ride solo. It scared me a little to think about it, but at the same time I was intrigued by the fact that there were so few woman riders on the road. I wanted to be one of the few. We found a used 2001 Honda Shadow Spirit on a resale lot, and I fell in love with her. She was black, and had a custom demon painted on her gas tank. Mike thought that she would be a great beginner bike, so we bought her and I named her "Jo Jo", which was later shortened to "Jo". I spent many hours in a local parking lot, with Mike marking courses and putting me through my paces. I began to feel comfortable on her, but I was afraid to take her out on the streets. The first time I rode her around my neighborhood, with Mike patiently in the lead on Dori, I literally duck walked around left turns! God, I was bad! No confidence, whatsoever! But, with Mike's tutelage, my confidence steadily increased.
Then I had my wreck. It was February, and we decided to ride our bikes to Santa Cruz. Mike found a nice little winding route across the Santa Cruz mountains that would keep us off the freeways. We took off and it was fantastic. I was slow, so we kept pulling off the road to let those speeding RV's pass us. I felt like I was flying, though! We did our business on the coast, headed for home, and I even got to experience about seven miles of Highway 17. I thought I was hot stuff! When we got back to town, we stopped for dinner, talked about our 100 mile ride, and I was on top of the world. Then we headed for home, along a route that was very familiar to us both. Mike accelerated through a yellow left turn light, and I followed him. I was not as quick on the clutch as him, so he surged ahead about ¼ mile. It was dark and my visor was locked into position. Little did I know that a lone bicycle rider, dressed in black clothing with no reflection on his dark bike was riding in the crosswalk directly in my path. I had just shifted into third and was moving along at about 35 mph when I clipped his back tire. He must not have seen me at all and I certainly didn't see him until it was too late. The first thought that ran through me was that I had just killed someone. I lost control of the bike, careened across three lanes of empty road and jumped a curb (just missing a transformer box and a tree). I decided that I needed to separate myself from my out of control bike, so I twisted away from her and tumbled into grass and ivy. The entire time I was not thinking of my safety, I was only thinking of that poor bicyclist that I had clipped. I know that there are guardian angels, because I landed in the front lawn of a fire department. I didn't lose consciousness, and within seconds there were at least 15 fireman and paramedics surrounding me. All I said was, "check the bicyclist that I clipped, don't worry about me." Some of the firemen ran to attend to the bicyclist, but he had fled the scene (which gave me some relief...at least he wasn't dead). Poor Mike. He saw the entire accident in his rear view mirror. He immediately turned a tight U and sped the wrong way down the street, dumped Dori on the grass, and ran to find me. City police saw him make the illegal maneuver and followed him, so I had everyone I could hope for at the accident scene. Fortunately, neither Mike nor I were cited.
Actually, I was feeling pretty good. My shoulder and ankle hurt a bit, but I shuddered when I saw Jo. She hit the curb so fast that she turned, end over end, until she plowed herself into the grass. Her mirror and rear fender were shattered. Her front and rear wheels were bent. She was a mess. Mike took me to the emergency room to be checked out, and the firemen gently picked Jo up and parked her in their lot. I was lucky. I broke my collarbone and twisted my ankle. Both healed early and well. Mike put Jo back together and she's good as new. The "victim" came to the police department to report the accident two days later. The cops just rolled their eyes.
Now I want to say something about safety gear. When I had my accident I was wearing a leather jacket, leather chaps, riding boots, gloves and a full face helmet. If I had decided to eliminate even ONE of these items, I would not have walked away from this accident with minor injuries. My helmet plowed into the ivy. One side of it was totally scraped and impacted. If I had been wearing a half helmet my face would have been smashed. If I had not been wearing boots over my ankles, my ankle would have been shattered. If I had not been wearing chaps, my legs would have been compromised. Hands.....the same thing. I will never ride without protective gear again!
I healed two weeks early, which was a good thing, because I got the call to complete my MSF certification. Mike was worried that I would be in pain, and I hadn't ridden in a month. I made the decision to go for it, and I'm glad I did. No pain and no apprehension about getting back on a bike. I did fine and was riding Jo the next week end. Mike breathed a sigh of relief, since he was uncertain that I would ever pilot a bike again.
I came to realize that Jo just didn't have enough power. I didn't like going on the freeway with her. I had a difficult time keeping up with Mike. We began looking for a more powerful cruiser. We really were honing in on the Suzuki Boulevard and I thought that it would be my future machine. Then, one day, two of our friends brought their bikes to parking lot practice. Jamie and Jen have Kawasaki's sport bikes, a couple of years old. I had a chance to ride them both and I really liked the riding position, responsiveness and power they provided. I had a blast! I began rethinking my love affair with cruisers...was I really a cruiser woman? Not long afterward, Mike and I found ourselves, once again, in a Honda dealership and I happened to notice a fine looking blue bike on the floor. I went over to her, mounted her, and immediately felt a tingle of excitement. She was a 2004 ST 1300. Mike said that I had noticed the ST's before, but as far as I was concerned, it was the first time I'd really NOTICED that bike. I liked her. We began talking about her a lot. Later we visited the Suzuki/Yamaha dealership and I looked at the Boulevard again... until my eye caught sight of an FJR. I went over to that bike, sat on her and gave her a hug. Oh yeah....I was hooked! I agonized for days. The FJR was light, but I didn't like the way the bags were attached and I didn't like the rear end profile. The ST was heavier, but I love Honda reliability and engineering. Plus, she looked beautiful from any angle. The ST was more visible. The FJR had better reviews in motorcycling magazines. The ST had linked brakes and I knew first hand about Honda's ABS system.
In the background, Mike was frantically trying to find an '04 ST with ABS, since the one we saw in the dealership was sold. He enlisted internet friends to widen the search. Finally, Don found one at his local dealership in Thousand Oaks. Mike called me and asked me if I wanted it. I waffled....I wavered, I wanted it. He made it happen, and we drove 360 miles that week end to pick her up. I was the first one to ride her. I did it in the parking lot. Mike rode her home to break her in properly. As I watched him ride, I wondered if I'd ever get my bike back!! He did have a blast, but he graciously handed her over when we got home. Oh man.....what a perfect fit for me! She's fast, agile, powerful and sexy. I've only dropped her twice, once on each side and both times while stopped, and thank God I had help getting her upright again! I've taken her on the freeways and I've done slow speed work in the parking lot. I'm taking my first long ride very soon.
I will never catch up to Mike's 35 plus year of motorcycling experience, but I'm living the dream every moment I'm riding. I have a multitude of moments to experience, and that's a dream come true!
*** Note from Mike: Since writing the above information, Carole has ridden the ST on a couple of long distance rides. One was a 1400 mile ride to Las Vegas and Back, and the other was a 5,500 mile ride to Dyersville, IA and back. She's learned to do some pretty cool stuff on her STeed.