He's a Rebel

So, have I mentioned that my boyfriend is a dreamboat? He's a sideburn sportin', motorcycle ridin', guitar playin' man. Only he waited until ten years into our marriage to let it out...so it's not like my parents can forbid me to see him. Smart move, I'd say.

I was kind of apprehensive about the whole motorcycle thing at first. Yeah, there's the awesome gas mileage...but there's also the fact that he is so exposed to the mistakes of other drivers. There's no air bag, that's for sure!

I have to admit that the roar of that engine is kind of thrilling, though. I mean, having a hunky husband who rides a motorcycle is every girls dream...right?

He got me on it for the second time today. There was definitely a lot less screaming this time!

The whole "lean into the turn" thing is scary and against every single fiber of my being. In my world...you lean AWAY from the falling....not toward it.

And then there's the helmet hair. And helmet face...you know where the helmet leaves marks on your face and you look like a goob because the people inside Target don't know you came on a motorcycle?!

Oh well...getting to snuggle up to my very own Marlon Brando (minus the sad lifestyle) and feel the wind whipping around us (and having a plastic shield over my face so the bugs don't fly into my mouth) is such a freeing feeling. I can totally understand the appeal of being a motorcycle mama...which I am...at least in the sense that I'm a mama AND I sometimes ride on the back of a motorcycle...although I'm fairly certain that a motorcycle mama is a concept I don't completely get.

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