Eulogy to my motorcycle
I miss my bike. My precious Ducati Monster 696 in pearl white. She was beautiful, sporty, fun. Freedom, speed, power and joy. My biggest indulgence two and a half years ago, when I finally decide to give up on vintage Hondas for something that would start at the press of a button. Admittedly a bigger indulgence than planned, but once I sat on a Monster, a bike made for my short but long legged build, it had to be. I blew my "budget" but never regretted it for a moment. To hop on my bike and open up the throttle on a good stretch of road with a big fat grin on my face (under my cobalt blue helmet).... joy!
But sadly, on August 30, 2012, at the tail end of a lovely sunset ride with two new riding buddies in the rolling hills west of Portland, my bike met her end and I woke up to a shockingly different reality. Making a left turn a mere block from my home I was rear ended by a driver who "didn't see me." I have no memory of this, but woke up being loaded into an ambulance on a stretcher with a brace around my neck, a vague glimpse of my bike on its side on the road thinking this was a bad, bad dream.
I made it through with scraped knees, full body whiplash more or less, bruised hip and a bruised brain. Nothing broken, but life with a concussion is no bloody joke! But thank goodness for my helmet or it could have been so, so much worse.
Sadly, my bike did not make it. A bent wheel and a hairline crack in her frame, she was deemed a "total loss."
While I know I am lucky to still be here, not broken, I find myself needing to grieve the loss of my life: the one where I had my bike and could destress and be one with the road and scenery, the one where I wasn't paying the price for someone else's carelessness, the one where I could maybe pull off being a bit more of a badass because I had a badass bike, the one that was more indulgent and free and my brain was sharp and fast and my body popped and cracked a lot less.
I will get it back, but in the interim, I miss my bike.