About the only thing that MiniSir and I have disagreed on since we’ve been together has been motorcycles. And really, it’s only been since my accident that our opposing opinions have actually come up against one another. It’s not that I am against anything that goes fast on two wheels, or other people owning them – in fact, my family has a long, wonderful relationship with cycles.
My grandfather started his working life at the locomotive construction yard in Kingston, tinkering away on huge steam engines. When the yard closed, he went to work at Queens University, and in his spare time he opened a small shop that repaired and rebuilt motorcycles. He owned all kinds of them – the last one I remember is a Triumph that he posed with for his retirement picture. My mum grew up driving them. My father owned one. I drove on the back of a moped in Bermuda with my dad when I was just a little girl. By all rights I should be completely comfortable with two-wheeled transportation.
But something about watching helplessly as a 10-ton vehicle drives over you and smashes your pelvis makes you reconsider your opinions about everything.
Lately his friends have been goading him about not owning a bike. They have been trying to convince him that he is less of a “real man” because we don’t have one. And while I understand the practicalities of owning one – less gas, frees up the car for me, etc. – I have been balking at every turn.
I think it’s because it’s something I can control. No, I can’t control what other drivers do on the road, or what happens every time he crosses a street, or the dangers of his chosen profession. But the one thing I do have some control over is our owning a motorcycle. And the very last thing I ever want anyone I love to experience is what I did one August morning. But when I think of motorcycles, my mind inevitably goes to that unfortunate few rides that end with the rider skidding across the pavement and under the tires of a much larger vehicle.
Will this reaction fade with time? Or will I always be hesitant of bikes? Am I being completely irrational? Is this something I should just accept? Honestly, I don’t know if I can just swallow my fears and watch MiniSir drive off on one. But am I just being stubborn by not letting him explore this desire? All this is enough to make me sick. Blech.
What do you all think? I’m asking for some advice from you, my readers. What are your thoughts?