Well, we decided the weather was too good on Tuesday to sit at home, so we packed our bags and headed west to one of our favorite spots, Hotel de Valk in Westkapelle, on the other side of the Netherlands.
Although I was a little concerned about taking the autobahn, the thing that bothered me the most was the possibility of having to take curves at highway speeds. I don't think the engineers over here worry too much about banking curves, so they're pretty much flat. Even driving in the car I feel sloshed over to one side or the other when we go around curves.
Fortunately, having to lean to make the curves turned out to be a huge advantage. Leaning just seems natural on the motorcycle! Now, anyway.
This would, of course, be a huge shock to my first cousin who tried taking me on the back of his bike when we were around 13 years old. He only took me as far as the first turn from his house. He learned left, and I leaned right to "correct" his lean so we wouldn't fall over. As soon as he could, Brad stopped the bike and told me to get off. I walked home in absolute humiliation and vowed to never get on another motorcycle.
Fast forward to around 1972, when a friend and I planned to go to a church choir Christmas party. I was wearing a long dress with high heels, and my long "shag" hairdo and makeup were perfect. Until he showed up on a motorcycle and refused to go in my car. So, my second ever ride on a motorcycle was with my dress hiked up and my perfect hair crushed inside a helmet. Oh, and it snowed on the way. I deeply regretted that I hadn't had the resolve to never, ever get on a motorcycle again. I renewed the vow.
Fast forward, again, to Spring of 2010, when I finally got up the courage to ride behind my husband on his Road King (no sissy bar) after watching him successfully ride for months. I drove the car "at a safe distance" behind him on several road trips, remaining firm in my commitment to motorcycle abstinence. However, there was just something about the peace that I saw in him every time he returned from a long ride - reminded me of watching smokers take that first puff after being on a long-distance flight. It was that peace that enticed me to buy a helmet - no shag to worry about now - and a jacket so my elbows wouldn't grind to the bone if I slipped off.
Our first trip was horrible. After about twenty minutes Kevin asked if I had seen something. "No, I can't see anything 'cause my eyes are shut and I'm praying so don't talk," was about all I could get out as my fingers gripped his sides. He offered to take me straight home. Notice, Brad, if you happen to read this, that he didn't just dump me off and tell me to walk home. It's funny, but I guess I'm contrary enough that Kevin's willingness to give up a ride because of my discomfort was enough to make me want to open my eyes and see what he was talking about. We kept going, and what I saw was absolutely glorious. The feeling of riding along and feeling the sun beating down on us, the aroma of a bakery and the odor of freshly plowed fields along with the weird motorcycle-bonding with him more than countered my fear of falling off.
When we finally pulled into our driveway, Kevin asked what I thought of the ride. All I knew at that point was that I didn't want to ride "two-up" ever again. He's solid and safe, and he's probably one of the best drivers I've ever been around. Also, the fear of falling because of leaning with the driver had gone away, a little anyway. I also knew by then that I wanted what he had - I wanted my own bike. I thought his jaw would drop to the ground when I told him so. He did a nice recovery and just said, "Well, then do what you have to do to make that happen."
When we went to the States last summer, I spent the first few days taking a Riders' Edge class at the Charlotte Harley-Davidson dealership in Matthews, NC. My instructor was a former military guy who was very, very patient with a mostly female class. He got us through the course without any injuries, so getting the motorcycle endorsement on my Mississippi Driver's License was pretty easy. We just had to drive to Mississippi to get it! The course gave me the theory so I did well on the written exam, and the card from Riders' Edge meant that I didn't have to do a road test.
Kevin and I got back to Europe about two weeks after the course and looked for a shop that would rent a bike to me while I decided which one I would like to buy. We finally found one in Heerlen, and I rented a Suzuki Savage 650 for a weekend. The Netherlands must have more traffic circles per capita than any other country in the world, so there was no escaping curves that had given me, predictably, some trouble during the RE course. I spent most of my time on the Savage practicing going around in circles. Literally. There is a new road project fairly close to our house, and part of the road was built in hopes of continuing to a connecting road. There's a long story about a property owner who refused to sell, so construction was halted, conveniently, at a traffic circle.
I wanted a Harley, and I definitely wanted something heavier than the Savage. We went back and forth with the dealer at the military car sales place at the local base, convinced that I would end up with a Sportster 883. I ended up getting the bike of my dreams - literally. When we were in the Gaston Harley-Davidson Dealership, there was the most gorgeous Sportster 1200 Low on the show floor. It was a brand new 2009 model, black ice/blue ice (actually a yummy shimmery purple and blue). We were there for too short a period of time to get things worked out to have it shipped to the Netherlands, so by the time we were looking for bikes my hope of ever seeing that bike was truly just in my dreams. By the end of September, though, that bike showed up on the inventory of motorcycles in Europe, and now she's waiting in my garage!
I've had loads of fun on that bike already, and our trip to the coast really gave me a deep satisfaction that's difficult to put into words. I took the big curves with a bit of caution until I got comfortable enough to go full speed. Dealing with autobahn road interchanges with four and five lanes across and some crazy cross-overs for exits was a bit frustrating, but Kevin is a patient man who takes great care in making sure there is room enough for both of us to move before he leads us in lane changes or exits.
Lessons learned during that trip would be to dress warmer in the cooler, windier temps, and to get a motorcycle GPS so Kevin isn't stressed with having to read signs in several languages and worried about missing signs or turns while he's trying to look out for me.
Oh, the moment of truth at each end of the trip came the instant the bikes were turned off and we both smiled as we sighed in absolute, utter peace.
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