I took my first motorcycle ride yesterday!

My friend, Lisa, lives in Santa Monica. I drove out to visit, since we never see each other. We keep in touch mostly via email, but about once a year (pathetic!) or so, I make the trek to visit. She showed me her motorcycle, which she's had for about 6 months. That was the first I'd heard of it. Shows you how well we're keeping in touch lately.

Her roommate, Abe, got home mid-afternoon. He'd just been on a day-long ride into the hills & canyons north of Santa Clarita. He has a bigger motorcycle, with a back rest. It's really a "don't go flying off the back of the bike when I gun it to 50" rest. This comes in handy when you're a passenger and going, you know, 50!

He offered me a ride, and I declined. Then he offered again, and I declined again. Then he said "We should go while it's still light," and I said "Let me get my shoes." What was I thinking?!

He put a half-shell helmet on me, and loaned me a bulky leather jacket. He said getting on the bike is like mounting a horse - I got thrown off a horse, once, so that analogy didn't suit me too well. He got on. I got on behind him. We got going down the alley toward the street.

"That's fast!" I called to him. We were going 15 mph.

He had told me to lean with him when we turned corners; to make sure my body was in line with his. But leaning into a tilt is very counter-intuitive, and I really struggled to do as he'd said. I saw images of us leaning too far and crashing into the ground; and of me leaning the opposite direction - because I couldn't help it - and the two us of flying off because of the physics countermanding each other. Oh, how little I know of physics.

Turns out, the worst that could happen was we'd make a wider turn and end up in wrong lane - as in the lane of oncoming traffic! I did my best to lean.

At one point, we were passing an intersection and a white car came to a very late stop as we sped past, and I tensed up. Abe said he could feel me freak out behind him, and demonstrated the horn - he wasn't about to let that car cut us off.

But again I had this horrible image of us swerving to avoid the car, the bike going down, us crashing into the asphalt and sliding on shoulders and helmets. I saw my glasses shattered and lying feet from me; the leather jacket I was wearing shredded and blood starting to seep through onto the ground; my face slashed and bloody, gravel and dirt embedded in my cheek and forehead. And me trying to call my husband from the back of an ambulance, trying to tell him I'd been in a motorcycle accident, and I was on the motorcycle. I hadn't told him I was going for a ride.

But we made it back to Lisa & Abe's apartment in one piece - or rather, three pieces, since there were three of us... a lame joke, I know. On the last straight-away before turning back into their alley, Abe actually got up to 50 mph, but by that time I was an old pro. Leaning toward him then leaning into the turn, I was finally becoming somewhat comfortable.

I tried to get off the bike, but I was still nervous and shaking so badly that I could barely stand. I tried to explain the combination of exhilaration and fear that I'd felt. But I quickly decided that if I could be in control of the bike's movements, instead of being a passenger, I would feel much better. So when it's time for Jason & I to get our bikes, I'll be getting my own, thank you.

And that's the story of my first motorcycle ride.