Eighteen months ago I was diagnosed with cancer. And so began a whirlwind of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. And my motorcycle sat unused, unloved, and untouched in the driveway.
While I was recovering from surgery, my bike sat in the driveway.
While I sat in the infusion chair, getting cisplatin pumped into my veins, my motorcycle sat in the driveway.
While I lay strapped to a table with a radiation mask on my face getting bombarded by radiation, my motorcycle sat alone in the driveway.
While I slowly lost all sense of taste and all of my saliva, my motorcycle sat in the driveway.
While I fed myself with formula through a tube inserted into my belly, my motorcycle sat in the driveway.
As I lost 50 pounds of weight from my treatments, my motorcycle sat in the driveway.
As I spent four months on disability I looked daily in the driveway at my neglected motorcycle.
As I recovered from everything, I let my motorcycle sit in the driveway; after all, it would be irresponsible to get my motorcycle road-ready again when I was so weak and unprepared.
When I finally regained my strength, I was too busy trying to start living again, finding a new job, and reconnecting with myself to get on the motorcycle.
I moaned daily about my motorcycle, sitting in the driveway with rotted tires from sitting too long and gummed up carbs from never starting.
Finally, last week, Carey had had enough. She gave me an early birthday present. She was going to make me fix my bike for my birthday. We had the bike towed to the shop and they held onto it for a week, repairing it, putting new tires on it, and sending off to Honda for a replacement oil cap.
Don’t think this was completely altruistic on Carey’s part. She LOVES riding on the back of the bike and wanted desperately for me to get back in the saddle. She was addicted to riding on our very first date – when we rode downtown to catch a Joan Jett concert.
And yesterday, finally, the shop called and told me to pick up my bike. It was cold and rainy, but I immediately jumped up and dragged Carey to Kissimmee to pick up the bike. I froze my fingers because I didn’t have the right gloves, but the feeling of being on the motorcycle again is simply indescribable.
Today, we took our first real ride on the bike in over 18 months. We put about 75 miles on the bike, riding to Mt. Dora to have lunch and window shop. It was a beautiful day; not a cloud in the sky. The temperature was a very comfortable 65 degrees and the ride was amazing. I felt reborn. I feel like I have finally started truly living again after my cancer treatments of last year.
I am so, so happy. I have been almost 2 years without my motorcycle. This Friday, we ride to Daytona for Bike week. I’m going to have a BLAST.