Submitted story: That "got it!" moment

I knew that my Grandfather rode a Harley Davison back in the very early days of "Harley-dom". I knew my father rode a bike of generic background until he tried to go up a steep hill on his parents horse farm and had a bad accident, flipping the bike and injuring himself. No more motorcycling for him, said my Grandfather!

Years went by, my Father grew up, married and began to have the first of six children. I am the second eldest, the first "Daddy's Little Girl."

When my Father was in his forties, he and my mother divorced. One of the first things he did was to go out and buy himself his first Harley. He had Lone Eagle painted on the gas tank and every spare moment found him riding everywhere he could. He couldn't get enough of that bike and couldn't ride far enough away, from the pain and the memories.

Each and every year, he rode down to Daytona, FL. My Father spoke to me of a feeling that you get when you are riding. I tried to understand what it was that he was trying to share with me. He said it was like to other feeling on earth and he wished he could explain it better. Perhaps it was one of those things that you just had to feel to understand. Try as I might, I just did not understand what he meant. Although I was darn glad that there was joy in his heart again.

My father eventually remarried, happily and raised us kids to adulthood. A couple of the boys also rode Harley's for a number of years.

When I was in my early thirties, I decided that I also wanted to learn how to ride. My then-husband had wanted to learn too, but it never seemed to fit his schedule. I got tired of waiting and went ahead with my own training. I took the local Defensive Riding Class offered by the State Police and passed with fying colors. I practiced riding almost daily, never straying too far from home. I really needed to ride to build my confidence up. It was also the first time working with a clutch!

After about 6 months, I found myself on a back road, on a Sunday morning and I was coming up onto a hill. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, it was a mid-spring day and I was feeling confident on my bike. When I crested the hill, a feeling that I had never felt before came over me and I knew in an instant it was that feeling that my Father had tried to convey to me so many times. I had never felt so free, so one with anything before that moment. I will never forget that moment that I finally "got it!"

I also remember telling my Father about it the next time I saw him. His smile was from ear to ear.