Skip to main content

Wind Therapy with Layla


Was it just this morning I was all sad, down-in-the-dumps, and a bit angry because my riding date didn’t show up, call, or answer any of my attempts to get in touch with him? I have been the gambit from “I am not good enough!” to “Something horrible must have happened to him or someone in his family.” (I even went so far to Google area motorcycle wrecks.) And then I hung out with Layla for the day.

When I set out this morning, I knew a couple of my friends were riding, but I wasn’t sure if I would ride alone or with them. I got Layla’s pipes rumbling and set out to meet them. When I arrived, neither of them were there yet. I debated gassing up and heading somewhere to get lost. About the time the tank was full, a man came over and asked me for $4.00 to get home. I don’t know the whole backstory. Something about needing the money to buy gas for a ride home. I bought him a slice of pizza and a drink. As I walked out of the store, I saw the other two bikes parked beside mine. Before I knew it, Layla and I were riding as part of the group.
Bikers tend to have an eating place as a destination when going on a group ride. Or so that has been my experience. On the way to the restaurant, the questions about what went wrong with this great friendship I was developing with this guy rolled around in my head.   The majority of them had to do with self-doubt about whether he wanted to spend time with me. Every now and then, thoughts of the possibility of a lost phone, a hurt relative, or something else beyond his control would sneak in. However, my thoughts kept coming back to, “What is it about me that doesn’t even get a phone call or any notice?” Before I knew it, we were at the restaurant. I enjoyed my time with friends and forgot about the fact that I was supposed to be riding to the beach with him.


And then Layla and I were following Joe again. Trusting wherever he lead us. It didn’t take long for my thoughts to do their thing again. This time it was different. I thought about the way we met striking up a conversation at the flea market. What I thought would be a short trip turned into six hours. We got together a couple times that week. It has been two weeks of texts, laughter, fun, and plans for more to come. I played it all in my mind, smiling at the memories.

At some point on my ride, I believe it was when I was riding alone on my way home, I made peace with being stood up. I am leaving the feelings of hurt in the past. I have cried my tears over it and felt like I wasn’t enough. Riding down the road, feeling the wind in my face, I let all my worries and hurt be blown away letting the smiles remain.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

WABDR: Section 1

Section 1  We end at the beginning  Does it feel like this trip will never end? Epic adventures tend to last a bit longer than just an average one. So….on with our tale.  We got our bikes all packed up and continued over White Pass. The first time we went over it, it was a cloudy day. Thus, the visibility of the mountains was not much. I was expecting the same on our return trip to Packwood. Therefore, it took my breath away when I saw the mountain off in the distance for the first time. The beauty was so overwhelming, I teared up.    I continued to watch the mountain until I could see it no more. Soon we were in Packwood. Back where we started. After a quick breakfast at the local coffee shop, we were on our way. I may have taken a few minutes to ride the big bike first… Not too long though, because someone was ready to get moving.  Jennifer had some friends that were camping at Walupt Lake, which is right on the trail for Sectio...
Post a Comment
Read more

Aging sucks.....or does it?

Upon first thought, watching a parent age sucks. Unnoticeable at first. A bit of a stoop, some creaking in the knees, whitening of the hair. The doctor’s visits begin, as do the pills One for high blood pressure, another to thin the blood, and a handful of vitamins to top it off. The signs are there, but it is easier to see him as he has always been. My father, a pillar of strength. Until my pillar was knocked off-kilter. A simple surgery and the mortality of my father looked me square in the eye when the drugs took hold of his brain. Amidst his fidgeting and confusion, I realized…AGING SUCKS! And then….enlightenment dawned upon me….AGING IS BEAUTIFUL Wrinkles tell of smiles while silver hair speaks a life of memories. Knees creaky after years of kneeling in prayer, offering up a lap, and climbing up the stairs for one more kiss goodnight. Almost forty-eight years of memories nestled in my heart. Memories of my father. Taking us to church each Sunday Building and fixing ...
2 comments
Read more

WABDR, Section 2: Part 1

WE GET ON THE TRAIL, finally WABDR Section 2 It has taken forever to get to this part of the story, but we are finally here! The day we go off-road. But first, we go into Packwood in hopes of getting a first-aid kit that we realized we forgot the previous evening. No first-aid kit was to be found. Mostly because the one store that we figured would have one was closed. If you read the second installment of this story, you already know our response. (For those who didn’t read it, we dubbed this the F-it Trip.) We would figure it out as we went along. The way we handled it was to have a good breakfast and charge up our intercom system. As we rode down the road to get to the trail with our music playing, I felt as if we were straight out of Easy Rider... except much more badass. After all, we were going off-road. Pretty sure the big, wide, bug-catching grin on my face didn’t look so tough though.  White Pass went on for awhile. The clouds looked a bit ominous. I paid i...
1 comment
Read more