Two years ago I bought my first motorcycle, a 1975 Yamaha RD250. It was love at first sight.
I decided I wanted to learn to ride and have my own motorcycle after learning about a mass ride (organized by Death Science and Show Class Mag) to Ocracoke Island, NC, called "Revenge Run". A crew of 100+ bikers my age hauling ass down a rode with the ocean on both sides of them sounded amazing....and I wanted to be a part of it. The original plan was for me to ride on the back of my friend Parker's sportster. My boyfriend, Brett, has a Triumph Thruxton which is pretty uncomfortable to ride on the back of. The ride was a weekend camping trip so the guys had to load up the back of their bikes with sleeping bags and tents. Which meant there was no room for me. So two months before the ride I realized that if I wanted to go on this trip, I would have to ride a motorcycle my damn self. And that's exactly what I did.
Brett and I were having breakfast one Saturday morning and I told him I need to find a bike ASAP. Not even 10 minutes into looking at Craigslist, we found the bike that would change my life forever. The very next day and $1,500 later I was a proud new owner of this rare, antique two stroke beauty.
I was determined to learn to ride it. I have to be honest, I was scared out of my fucking mind. I didn't think I could do it or could ever be comfortable riding a motorcycle. "What am I thinking?!" ran through my head constantly. I had a lot of support from my guy friends that ride, especially from Brett. If it wasn't for him I probably would have never had the confidence to learn to ride. He believed in me, it helped me believe in myself.
One month before Revenge Run my feet came off the ground and onto the foot pegs of my very own motorcycle...
Learning to ride was hard. I basically got yelled at by a couple of dudes that all had different opinions on how to fix what I was doing wrong. To them, riding was easy. They couldn't understand how nervous, scared, and uncomfortable I was. However, I absolutely did not want them to take it easy on me or treat me like a "girl." Riding a motorcycle is dangerous and I needed to learn the proper safety techniques and maneuvers in order to avoid hurting myself or other people. After a few frustrating practice sessions at Harbor Park and an intense Motorcycle Training course in the rain, I was finally ready to jump on the interstate with one hundred other bikers and ride 160+ miles to Ocracoke Island. Well that's what I kept telling myself in my head. Confidence was key. Even if I was freaking the fuck out in my head, I had to stay calm and collected on the outside.
I must have stalled out a hundred times, but I kept going. When we finally made it to our camp site I was sore, my hands were numb from holding on too tight, dirt and sand covered my face and bugs were glued to my sunglasses but I still felt amazing and alive. I got off my bike, sat on the grass and as the sun was going down and thought to myself, "I fucking did it".