I don’t like motorbikes. They terrify me.
I fear what seems to me the unwarranted aggression of the revving engines, the risky speeds and frantic lane weaving, and the massed gatherings of bikers with the dress code that makes them seem like giant post-apocalyptic insects. I come out in goose bumps every time I see a swarm of them in my rear view mirror.
The fear used to extend to hatred, until the Prof and I met a large Harley Davidson convention in Asturias. We kept meeting them as we travelled around the area. To my surprise they were gentle folks much like us, enjoying the things we enjoyed - the precipitous slopes and the flower strewn meadows of the Picos d’Europa; late dinners in village squares feasting on freshly caught fish; the sea, the sunshine and the beaches. Most of all, they enjoyed being together as a group.
Later a colleague I admire took up motorbiking and through her I began to understand the thrill of speed, the open road, the sense of achievement in the distance travelled and the comradeship found in riding with groups of like-minded women.
My problem was not seeing beyond the helmet. Maybe for you it’s the hijab, the shaven head, the pin stripe suite, the tattoos or the cross-dressing. I still get scared and defensive when I encounter motorbikes, so I practice breathing more deeply and reminding myself that these are just people underneath the helmets. You won’t ever get me near a motor bike saddle, and let's face it, I wouldn't look good in leathers. But then, I stroke bumble bees and maybe that scares you.
Bees sense fear. Relax, breathe and they probably won’t sting you.
I fear what seems to me the unwarranted aggression of the revving engines, the risky speeds and frantic lane weaving, and the massed gatherings of bikers with the dress code that makes them seem like giant post-apocalyptic insects. I come out in goose bumps every time I see a swarm of them in my rear view mirror.
The fear used to extend to hatred, until the Prof and I met a large Harley Davidson convention in Asturias. We kept meeting them as we travelled around the area. To my surprise they were gentle folks much like us, enjoying the things we enjoyed - the precipitous slopes and the flower strewn meadows of the Picos d’Europa; late dinners in village squares feasting on freshly caught fish; the sea, the sunshine and the beaches. Most of all, they enjoyed being together as a group.
Later a colleague I admire took up motorbiking and through her I began to understand the thrill of speed, the open road, the sense of achievement in the distance travelled and the comradeship found in riding with groups of like-minded women.
My problem was not seeing beyond the helmet. Maybe for you it’s the hijab, the shaven head, the pin stripe suite, the tattoos or the cross-dressing. I still get scared and defensive when I encounter motorbikes, so I practice breathing more deeply and reminding myself that these are just people underneath the helmets. You won’t ever get me near a motor bike saddle, and let's face it, I wouldn't look good in leathers. But then, I stroke bumble bees and maybe that scares you.
Bees sense fear. Relax, breathe and they probably won’t sting you.