Submitted story: First ride

My first motorcycle ride was on the back of Jeff's Harley Davidson. I felt like an astronaut with the helmet plopped on my head. My stomach turned over as though I was climbing onto a roller coaster. All the warnings my mother ever interjected into her lectures spun through my mind: "Wear your seat belt. Be careful. Don't ride with strangers. Don't make stupid choices. And be careful."

I experienced Carmel Valley Rd as I never had before. I could smell the flowers, strawberries and horse manure instead of the fake vanilla air freshener I bought at 7-11. Cut grass wafted our way as we drove past the high school. The heavy grease of a restaurant drifted our way. The flowers popped, their colors bright. I had never seen them like this before. Their beauty had always been obscured by the dingy car windows.

There was no music, only the sound of the engine and occasionally a sound from nature would break through the steady rhythm of the motorcycle. I felt the wind of passing cars as we waited to make a left turn.

As we approached the next traffic light we by passed the waiting traffic, riding right up to the light. At the first sight of green, we cut off the waiting cars. Jeff was a very considerate driver. He didn't take turns too fast or drive to fast. He was more concerned that I had a good time than showing off. We got returned to Jamie's house, my best friend and his new girlfriend.

Soon after, Jeff moved to Japan, taking Jamie and his bike with him. I always wondered what Japan looks like, smells like and feels like from the back of a Harley.