Old Dog's New Toy

Old Dog had one of these back when he was a Young Dog.

He rode it a lot with what we'll call "a group of friends," but at some point he had to sell it to provide for his growing family.

So that's his history with motorcycles.

Mine is that, two weeks before I graduated from high school, two boys in my class lost their left legs to a drunk driver, one at the knee, the other at the hip. They came to Commencement on crutches, only one shoe showing beneath each robe.

Since then I've been petrified of motorcycles. Marry that up with the fact that I'm just the teensiest bit controlling and you have the world's worst passenger. No matter how hard I try to be accommodating, I find myself leaning against the turns.

When previous drivers have complained, claiming it makes it hard to turn the bike, my response has been: "Just be glad I didn't make your seat soggy."

Since Old Dog's mental image of riding has been with a biker mama on the back, we've been at détente on the whole motorcycle issue.

Then our neighbor decided to sell this pretty baby.

We took our first ride on Saturday afternoon. Old Dog enjoyed the wind blowing through what's left of his hair, while I passed the time imagining death by fruit salad--smashed melon and full-body strawberry.

This morning he's out toodling around by himself and I'm at home, wishing I wasn't such a fruitaphobe. We ordered helmets online, and I've promised I'll ride with him once they come in.

I must be bananas.