Backseat - From Where I Sit

Saying Goodbye

Nothing is usually more relaxing for me than an exhilarating early morning Saturday ride. However, this particular ride made me feel a bit apprehensive and restless. It must have been the mixed feelings of elation and expectation, tainted with a touch of guilt. We were finally going to get our dream bike, a 2001 Ultra Classic. Yet I couldn't help but feel like I was betraying an old friend, our 1992 Sportster.

That Sportster introduced me to the world of motorcycles. From that first fateful ride down the Shenandoah Parkway, I knew I could never go back. It set me free. It defined my rebellious nature (so I am a late bloomer). It is forever a part of my history, seeing me through the ups and downs of a new relationship, a couple of moves and more jobs than I should ever admit. Like "Old Faithful" it was always there in the driveway, sometimes covered with a tarp and buried in snow but I knew it was there. Laying dormant beneath the weight - waiting for us to go on the next ride.

I could only cast a guilt-ridden downward glance as the Sportster's saddlebags were emptied for the last time and the mechanic drove it away. The salesman, sensing my weakening, began eagerly pointing out what seemed like a million bells and whistles on the shiny new blue and ice bike. I couldn't help but feel like I was being introduced to a new acquaintance. After a few hundred miles, I am sure this bike will become a "friend" as well.

For now, I am content trying to figure all the nuances of the new bike and it appears that it is going to take a while. Right now my biggest challenge is to find a dignified way to climb on to the back seat. I had that one down pat on the Sportster. If I may be so bold as to say I had a signature move that was comprised of one swift and sure movement. It was probably the only graceful move I have been able to achieve in my life. Well, now, there is no one sure swift movement that can get my leg up over the backrest of the front seat and onto the other side on the new bike without getting hung up somewhere along the way. It is the antithesis of looking cool - if there is such a thing. If anyone has a system for getting on and off and Ultra Classic with any sense of decorum, please let me know. My pride is at stake here and I am running out of quiet ways to sneak on when no one is looking.

As I take on last long wistful look back at "Old Faithful", I can't help but be sad. But as they say, "the wind in my face will dry my tears".

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