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.