1 The Beginning

Here I am!

Apparently, my quest is to 
ride a Harley Davidson motor bike to places well beyond my home.

This is absurd and a little on the crazy side.

Good grief, I am a 55year old female baby boomer!!

Strange, it wasn’t a lifelong passion, although the pull has been immense.

About 10 years ago, I had a thought of owning and riding a Harley Davidson bike, even going into a store a  to sit on a few.  However, family and work suppressed that urge and the thoughts faded.

My daughter gave me a Xmas gift one year of a Harley bike ride around Sydney, a most remarkable experience, the rumbling sound traveling through Sydney’s Harbour Tunnel still rings in my ears to this day.

Nine years later, a few thoughts would pass through my mind quickly when I heard the rumble of a Harley.
A dormant seed was sprouting.

I took a boat ride to Bundeena one lazy Sunday afternoon and was instantaneously attracted to speak to a couple who were clad in bike leathers, walking to their parked Harley bikes.

I felt a strong connection and conversation flowed, noticeably centered on the bikes. Sonya gestured me to sit on her rich red gleaming Softail, Max encouragingly took a photo, me, smiling like a Cheshire cat on Christmas morning.

We exchanged e-mail addresses and that night I received the photos, which went straight on to my desktop.

Again, work and commitments got in the way and I suppressed the urge.

I didn’t know at the time, that seed was determined to grow, no matter what I was to feed it. 

My ears became radars to that distinctive rumble sound wherever I went.

My eyes became beacons scanning every bike on the road, 
mesmerized by a sense of freedom.

My body involuntarily stopped to gape at the glistening polished chrome and the artistry of lines and craftsmanship synonymous to Harley's which were parked. 

(Mind you, I am no way mechanically minded, yet can appreciate utter beauty.)

Thoughts flickered though my mind at lightning speed; I dismissed them with all the excuses one could muster. Yet that seed was winning.

Sonia phoned to catch up for a drink one night, mentioned they were going to the Harley dealership with friends the following day and invited me to hitch a ride, ‘Yes’ flew out of my mouth faster than my brain could comprehend.

The ride to the dealership was exhilarating, three Harley Davidson bikes rumbling side by side, I felt connected with life, all senses finely tuned to living in the moment.

Oh, a black one with studs, yep that’s the one I would want, isn’t that synonymous with a Harley?

Sonya and Max urged me to sit and ‘try’ on various models. I was amazed at how different they all felt, then I realised I was not going to choose a bike, a bike was going to choose me, I let go and allowed it to flow.
It was the last one I would have visually chosen, yet the Black Softail Deluxe called me.

As I sat, the Softail embraced me with all her might, feeling contented, every muscle relaxed, my entire body dissolved into her.

The Softail said, ‘Put your feet up, you’re home’.

Again, I made excuses, and they were valid ones as to why I could not have a bike, time, money, work etc you know the routine, however, I was becoming restless in all areas of my life.

That seed was entrenched in my body and mind whether I liked it or not, it was growing roots exponentially.

My brother came to visit for 8 weeks from Canada, and my daughter came back from a cycling holiday and was to stay with me also, see, no time!

The stories of traveling so openly grew, my brother and I spoke of Alaska, where I had longed to visit, then, he mentioned how incredible it would be to ride a Harley around Alaska! 

Every vision, sound, smell of that trip detonated in my entire being in one explosive instant! 


That seed had grown into a colossal tree 
that was not to be felled.

My excuses fell on deaf ears. “How?” I screamed!

I was pacing like a caged animal, my body shook with panic and anticipation.

Time sped and synchronicity of events bought me to here, unsure of the how’s and why, however it has given me a sense of reprieve, it is out of my body, for now.

Resigning to the compulsion and the facts, I can’t ride, don’t have a bike, or the funds.

What does this have installed for me?
I am unsure, yet I will record the journey to wherever it is to take me.

It reminded me of a quote from Thoreau,

“The question is not what you look at, but what you see.”