My husband has a Road King Classic. When he bought it, I told him he could sit on it in the driveway and ride it around the block. Then, I started feeling guilty and told him he could ride it around our neighborhood but only during the day. It wasn't long before I spotted him outside his boundaries. And it wasn't long after that, I figured out I better get on the bike with him. Saturday's ride to Bruster's in LaGrange was my first real group ride.

Saturday was a big day. We got up early and started with the Pancake Breakfast at the dealership. The pancakes and the sausage were yummy! Then we attended the first chapter meeting of the year held upstairs in the dealership. There were a lot of people at the meeting. At the end of the meeting a man named Paul made an announcement about the ride planned for the afternoon. I wasn't thinking it was a particularly good day to go on a ride. Just riding to the dealership earlier that morning was very cold. Too cold. Brrrrr!

Anyway, Paul started going over details about the ride, and honestly, at that point, I really wasn't entertaining the idea. The only thing that really stood out, that I remember him asking, was if it was the first ride for anyone planning on going. And since I wasn't planning on going, I didn't raise my hand or say anything. I know. I figured it out. He meant the driver. Anyway, then Paul finished, and the few people left in the room started talking about who was riding with who and something called sweeping. Sweeping? With the meeting over there was really nothing left to do so my husband and I headed for the door. We were actually on our bike leaving the dealership, when that guilty thing kicked in again.

It reminded me of being in a parade. All the bikes were lined up in pairs, and people were busy running around taking care of last minute details like paperwork. As I sat watching, I studied the other riders. I started to worry about the cold. Some of the other rider's helmets had windshields, and almost everybody else was wearing chaps. I took a deep breath filling my lungs with the cold air and decided it was too late. I was committed. One by one the riders mounted their bikes and the rumbling of the engines began. I loved that. It was loud and exciting. We sat waiting, patiently, with our helmets on and the bike running. I wondered how long it would be before I would feel the warmth from the bike and hoped it wouldn't be long. The sounds of the bikes reverberated, and there's just something about that sound. I think I almost forgot about the cold.

I started liking the whole thing. The riders revved their engines, and I thought to myself how my husband was right. He needed better pipes. As we continued to wait to start the ride, I couldn't help but think that the waiting must have been intentional, a part of the itinerary. Time set aside. Maybe it was to give the riders time to get in the zone. Or time to capture the attention of anyone not on a bike. I used the time to hug my husband. Then, suddenly, the ride began. Paul, the road captain, I learned, moved forward and the procession of riders followed. It was a big group. There were something like thirty riders, and we were in the middle of the pack. We left the dealership waving to onlookers. I held on tight.

We rode along backroads in the country, and the scenery was pretty. We followed the group around curves, under the shade of trees, and through the little neighboring towns. I tried to take it all in ... the homes, the landscapes, and the people. The sound of the bike roared uphill, and then we coasted down the hill. The riders used hand signals to communicate with each other. The obvious ones, right hand and left hand turns, and stop. Then they had some additional ones for forming a single line, changing lanes, and slowing down. It was fun to watch. One by one the riders signaled, and it was like a wave the crowd does at a baseball game. We passed by junkyards and cemeteries. It was sad.

Then, we passed by children playing in a front yard, and I waved to them. I giggled when we passed the dog. He looked like we had woken him up from his afternoon nap. I waved to the old man who stood in his side yard saluting us or maybe he was just trying to block out the sun to see what the noise was about. When we stopped at a red light, I smiled at the girl on the back of the Ultra Classic beside us. We had been following her, and I had been secretly admiring her helmet the whole time. Sitting beside her I was finally able to compliment her. It was silver with pink roses on the sides. I love pink. She said something about not liking the wind causing the fringe on her vest to hit her, and as we started moving with the green light, I watched as she pulled her coat from the luggage compartment behind her. While we rode she put the coat on, and I was impressed. We rode a little farther then and arrived at our destination, Brusters. I know. Ice cream. On a cold January day. What was I thinking?

We followed in suit as bike after bike pulled into the parking lot and backed into the parking spaces along the curb forming a neat line. My husband stopped letting me get off, and I waited while he backed our bike up and shut it off. Suddenly it was quiet. I slowly pulled my helmet from my head basking in the forgotten freedom and tried not to call attention to myself while waiting for the numbness from the ride to disappear. As I stood still concentrating on issues at hand and waiting for my husband to situate himself, I chatted with a woman whose red helmet was covered with stickers. There were too many to read at one time, but one stood out. "Hairdo by Helmet" Cute! I could relate! I spotted a bench in the sun next to the building and decided to sit and wait for my husband, while he ordered our ice cream.
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