A Bike Run Too Soon
by Melissa M

A Bike Run Too Soon
Melissa M, Walton Hills, OH
I was recently divorced, and though it was a difficult thing to go through, as many know, the alternative, staying with my husband, was just too much for me to bear any longer. That man was verbally abusive and insulting, and I know he cheated on me. All my neighbors knew it too. I had to fight for every little thing for my well being. It just wasn't worth it anymore. The only good thing about my ex was his Electra Glide, and I loved to ride on the back. I felt like a queen back there.

My neighbor across the street rides and so does his wife. Both have been riding for years. Joe and Vivian are seasoned riders and they both kept telling me there was no reason I couldn't ride my own bike. He rides a Harley, a Softail Deluxe, and she rides a Yamaha V-Star 650. We all talked about me learning to ride countless times and finally did something about it.

They took me to a nearby (sort of) shopping center parking lot on a Sunday evening. All the stores were closed and we found a nice empty out lot to use. I was nervous but I wanted this. I got a rundown of all the controls and I don't think I heard absolutely everything because there was another voice in my head rambling on about how I was an idiot for doing this, and what was I doing, am I crazy, etc., etc. But I rode the V-Star around a little bit and though the bike seemed kind of big, I was starting to have fun. Then one time when I came to a stop, I couldn't quite decide if I was going to turn or stop and I guess I did both, hit a curb, stopped suddenly and dropped her bike. I could tell she was kinda mad, and although she didn't say anything directly, she did say maybe I should take a safety course. Ya think?

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So that's what I did. They had courses at the local community college. I have a friend that teaches there and she let me know when to go. I got there early for sign ups and got in. Here in Ohio, motorcycles are really popular and classes for the year fill within hours. When I went for the class, it was mostly guys and half were experienced. There was one woman in the class but she wouldn't talk to me. Only the guys said anything to me at all, but were still a little standoffish. One guy was new to riding, never been on a bike, so we stuck together. I passed, just barely. He didn't, so he'll be coming back next year.

I knew I had to jump on this. If I waited too long I'd lose my nerve, so I went bike shopping. That was rougher than the class! One salesman told me to go home and come back with my husband. Another told me I was going to kill myself and I immediately thought of the line from A Christmas Story, "you'll shoot your eye out, kid". My neighbor told me to go down to State 8 Motorcycles in Cuyahoga Falls (that's a suburb of Akron). They were nice and helpful and didn't seem to look down on me, not insulting in the least, like those other places. Anyway, I ended up buying an '05 V-Star like my neighbor across the street, and had it delivered. I just wasn't ready to ride it home all that way by myself.

So now there was an elephant in the room. No, actually in the garage. But I was determined. I started taking it out around the development here. We're going to sell the house and split the proceeds, so I'll wind up in an apartment. Better use the streets while I can. In time, I was doing better, and venturing out for a couple hours at a time. Walton Hills is close to the Cuyahoga Valley National Park and there are nice winding roads with gentle hills that are fun to ride and not too overly challenging. I swear there's probably more bike traffic than car traffic at times. So in time, I was doing better, and enjoying my bike. I would occasionally ride with my neighbors when they went out, but they stayed out for a while. Sometimes I'd just have to head for home, and they'd escort me home every time.

One day, my neighbors asked me if I wanted to go on a bike run. It was to raise money for a little boy with cancer and lots of medical bills that the family was having trouble paying. I t was a rather long ride, with several key stops. I bought myself some leathers and some better riding boots; I was a little nervous about riding in a pack, and I wanted some better protection. Plus, we would have some weather/temperature changes with such a long riding day. I fixed up my hair and wore a shorty helmet. I thought I looked cute all dolled up for the ride. I rode over to the dealership (where the ride was starting from) with my neighbors. I got signed up and was given directions. We left out with the second fleet, my neighbors right in front of me.

It was exciting rolling out with the thunder of twenty or thirty other bikes roaring around me. We were about three-quarters of the way back in the pack. We had to jump on the freeway for a bit, but then we got off and started to ride some nice country roads with lots of curves. We had gotten on I-271 first and took that to its end at I-71, and then got off at the Lodi exit (Rt 224) and went east. From there I was kind of lost, because this seemed to differ from the directions I got earlier. I started to have trouble keeping up speed on these roads; they were doing 65 or better. Bikes were starting to pass me, and I ended up in the back. I thought they were supposed to stay in formation AND I thought there'd be a tail gunner bringing up the rear. Isn't there usually someone in the back to make sure we all get to where we're going? Apparently not, because soon I found myself alone.

I knew we were supposed to go through Salem and Lisbon and end up close to East Liverpool. Rt 14 goes to Salem, but we were supposed to be turning off and then cutting back over later or something. I pulled over to dig out my directions to look at them, trying not to panic. I couldn't find them. Then I remembered I gave them to Joe to keep for me. Stupid thing to do. I should have looked it over better. I never thought my friends (though admittedly not CLOSE friends) would leave me behind. I sped up as I was now on some straighter road. I crossed over a large lake or reservoir. Then I came to a junction for Rt 534 and that sounded familiar, so I turned off there. I kept going and going and there was no sign of anyone. No cars either. Tears were starting to well up. Oh great, I thought. What a tough-ass biker I turned out to be.

Then I remembered why 534 sounded familiar. My aunt in Hartsgrove kept a cottage in Geneva On The Lake and we took 534 up from the square. That's way north of here and I'm traveling south. Even 224 was pretty far south, like Youngstown kind of south. So now I was scared, so scared it chased away the tears. Good thing I wore waterproof mascara. What if those tears had been rain? Soon I noticed a little gas station up ahead, crammed with a bunch of bikes. I turned in and parked. I headed for the bathroom first and then I waited to gas up. Then Vivan comes over and starts reading me the riot act about where was I and that they waited for me. Yeah, right. I didn't know what to think. I suppose they can't be looking behind them all the time, but I felt abandoned.

They didn't run off and leave me anymore after that, and we barely spoke. I was so mad and promised myself I'd never trust them again. More importantly, I learned that I have to be able to rely on myself. Truth be told, I was probably too inexperienced to go on a bike run yet. Especially such a long one. And I'm responsible for getting myself there and really can't expect anyone else to be responsible FOR me. I managed to get through the rest of it. The scenery was beautiful. Ohio truly is a national treasure.

By the time we got back, I was so drained. As if the long ride wasn't enough, that ordeal in the beginning just took so much out of me. I decided then to stick to shorter rides until I build up more stamina. And I don't think I'll get myself into any more situations where I'm depending on trusting anyone else. I learned my lesson there. There's only so much other people can do; you have to stand up and take care of yourself, especially when traveling on two wheels!

One more thing. I ride with my neighbors now and then, but the subject of bike runs has never come up again and we've never talked about that day. But we will, eventually. It's nice to have riding buddies, but when you ride your own ride, it truly is YOUR ride, and no one else's.

©2008 The L.W. Wallace Co., Inc.