Passion between the legs

“In four years you can start taking motorcycle lessons; I bet you can hardly wait.” Thus spoke my father when I was fourteen years old. I would have taken that bet, if I hadn't been so reluctant to disappoint him. Like most fathers, he wanted me to share his passions and accomplish the goals he never reached. My parents never pushed me though and I’m eternally thankful for the way they raised me. I think the most important thing they taught me was to me open to everything in life and form my own opinions. The only thing that I felt that they tried to force upon me was my dad’s passion for motorcycles.

My parents each had their license. As far as I can remember they always owned at least one motorbike. Over the years my dad had many different ones. When riding, he often let me sit on the back, which I really enjoyed. I can now see how satisfying it must have been for him to share this with his little boy. When I was seventeen I even went on vacation on the motorbike with my dad and an uncle. However, what I liked was the physical sensations of riding, not the bikes as such.

Many boys dream of riding a moped; they cannot wait to turn sixteen. When I turned sixteen I bought a synthesizer instead -- even though I had to cycle for ten miles to get to school each day. When I turned eighteen I felt so much pressure from my dad to get my license that it killed my interest in motorcycles entirely. My dad didn't order me to get it, but he made it very clear that it was his dream. I only wanted to live my dream, not my dad's. Besides, I figured that at the age of eighteen I would not be responsible enough to drive in traffic with a machine that I owned for fun only. I feared that would lead to accidents.

Even before I realized my 'marriage' was falling apart, for no apparent reason, I suddenly got interested in motorbikes again. Matthew thought it was too dangerous and didn’t want me to get too excited about it. With him worrying, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it, so I limited myself to shared interests. However, now that I’m single and I had to give Matthew the car, my interest in motorbikes has grown again.

It actually started out as a practical consideration: my job gives me free public transport throughout the city and even to work, but I could really use a something for quick visits to other cities. If used only for weekends, a car would be wastefully expensive; a motorcycle seems the perfect alternative. The only disadvantages of a motorbike are that you cannot transport large objects and people, you get wet when it rains, and you always need to wear protective clothes and a helmet. In the rare situations that I might need to transport things, I could ask a friend to help me. Rain is not my worst enemy, and the protective clothes are just part of the deal. What you get back is the feeling of freedom that you never get in a car, and at a bargain price. I cannot image myself driving a car for fun, but I would certainly ride my bike for fun pretty often.

The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. A week ago I decided to sign up for lessons: I have now had three. Riding a bike felt completely different than riding as a passenger and ever so much sexier that I had imagined it would. I want my license by October; that is a little faster than average, but I like challenges. Once I have the license, I will buy a motorcycle and go on a short vacation alone. I've never gone away on my own and really need to do that once. In the process I will get some practice.

My friends all think it’s dangerous, and the people I know who have a license, all sold their bikes because they thought it had become too dangerous on the road. People joke that I’m having a midlife crisis. One friend even had the balls to suggest that there might be some connection between this desire and sexual liberation. To my surprise Stephen, my nicest colleague, immediately said that once I had it, he’d rent a bike and he’d go touring with me. My mother told me she wanted to rent one and ride with me somewhere for a weekend.

I had never looked at motorbikes very much; first because I simply wasn't interested and then because I didn’t want to feed the desire to own a bike. Now that I’m taking lessons, I’ve started focusing on motorcycles again. Unfortunately, I have expensive tastes. I like the really fast and aggressive looking bikes, but I’m a bit afraid that everyone will tell me that I shouldn't buy such a sporty bike. However, for me it holds the middle between a toy and a means of transport. So why not get one that I really like? It would be a great gift to myself for doing so well in 2008.

My father died almost four years ago. I regret that I suppressed the latent desire to ride a motorbike all those years, and suddenly turn on to the idea only now that my dad's not here anymore to enjoy my excitement. He would have loved helping buy a motorcycle and touring together. I feel like such an asshole for being too late with this. We shared so few interests and this would have been a great way to spend time together. I’m sorry, dad. I really am so sorry...