Your Stories

It probably started when as a young girl; I clipped a baseball card with a clothespin to my bicycle spokes so it would make that “motorcycle noise.” At 12 years old I got a minibike that made me the envy of the neighborhood boys. At 16 I went to the DMV and got my motorcycle learners permit. With no money for a motorcycle, the dream went on the back burner until I was 34 years old.

In 2000 I was transferred from California to Florida to work at the Kennedy Space Center on the space shuttle program. I was an avionics technician and crawled inside and out of the space shuttles. I was very dedicated to my work as well as dedicated to riding my motorcycle. I decided I wanted to ride my own motorcycle so I took the safety class.

“Denice, before you go…” I hear that voice in my head, that teacher voice, that voice that does so much for me and yet drains me by the end of the day. Every paper left ungraded, every lesson plan left incomplete, every student left unsaved is forgotten as I walk out the door. I have one mission right now and it doesnt involve the vanilla world.

I wish this story had a happy ending like so many others I read on here. This is where I look for encouragement. I, like many readers here, told my husband when he prepared to purchase his Harley-Davidson that I, too, wanted a Harley. In other words, dont expect me to ride on the back.

Why women ride? We ride because we love it! I ride with nine to 10 other women every month. We have so much fun. We ride, eat, shop, ride, you get the gist of it. We normally leave around 10:30 a.m. and return home around 4 or 5 p.m. We try and have a different route each month and I have thoroughly enjoyed every ride we have had.

My heart was pounding as I pulled on my riding boots. My fingers were sweating as I donned my Harley-Davidson vest. I went to the key rack and went through all the keys that we have had hanging for so many years, some that wed long since forgotten what they were for. I saw the Harley-Davidson key first and ran my trembling fingers across those black letters … the key to my new life.

My husband has always had motorcycles, from dirt bikes as a child to owning a few when we were first married. With the thoughts of our little girls at home, I never liked being a passenger. But the little girls grew up and left the nest, leaving us with time to figure out what hobbies wed enjoy together. Being big eBay buffs, we just happened to find motorcycles for sale.

Back in the summer of 2002, my husband told me he wanted a motorcycle. I thought the man had lost his mind. I told him if he got a bike, I was getting a bike. I must have been having a senior moment when I said that because I didnt have any desire to ride a motorcycle.

This story is about my wife Martha and her journey since the purchase of my motorcycle, the inspiration she found while dealing with one of lifes worst tragedies, and her transformation from being totally against the two-wheel experience to her awakening and becoming part of the ever growing community of women motorcycle riders.

I own a 2006 Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail Classic. I live in the Chicagoland area so I only have limited time to ride. Each year, though, my riding has exceeded the previous year. This summer my boyfriend, Derrick, encouraged me to learn my directions by reading maps the Atlas. I started with the map of Indiana and notice a few towns that amazed me.