Remember the days when you were young, oh, so young, and wishing you were older?
The days when you pretended you were all grown up, even though you weren’t?
I remember one of those days very vividly.
We were in the mountains of north Georgia, visiting some old family friends. They had lived next door to us when I was just a toddler. Their son was years older than me… I think he was a teenager when I was a toddler.
Anyway, this particular weekend he was visiting his parents – we were all staying at their lake house and going to the Georgia Mountain Fair (which is a pretty big deal up around these parts). He was visiting at the same time we were… and I was in heaven.
Joe David was his name. I remember having the hugest crush on him from the moment I saw him. Mind you, the last time I’d seen him, I was probably wearing training pants… so it was like meeting him for the first time. And, at thirteen, he was an Adonis to me. He had long, wavy sandy-brown hair, huge green eyes, plaid flannel shirt, tight jeans, black leather boots and the sweetest smile. (sigh) And, best of all, he rode a Harley.
I have always had a secret, rebellious side to me. The “wild child” that I don’t let out to play very often. I keep her locked up tight in a box, hidden deeply in my soul. She stays locked up so long I often forget that she is there.
But Joe David had her banging on the lid of the box to be let out to run free.
Now mind you, his part in all of this was innocent. Looking back, I’m sure he just thought, in his worldly, wise, 20-something way, that I was just a cute punk kid to be nice to for a few days.
Me? I was naming our children and contemplating a life as Mrs. Joe David.
One of the days we were there, and I don’t recall how it happened exactly, but I ended up being offered a ride on his Harley.
ALL ALONE with JOE DAVID on his HARLEY?
I just about died right then and there. I don’t remember HOW I got on the bike, or much of the details of the actual event… but what I do remember is the bliss I felt as we rode along those windy mountain roads. I can’t remember whether I loved the fact that I had my arms wrapped around this HUNK of a guy or the thrill of riding a motorcycle more.
That was when it happened. The wild child in me came out. She was blissfully happy with the wind blowing in her face and the scenery flashing by. Her heart was racing and adrenaline was pumping.
Ever since that day, I have had a love affair with speed. I love driving fast – anything fast… the boat, the car, or even (if I ever get the nerve again) on a motorcycle.
The wild child is locked up safely in her box (for now). I don’t let her out to play much these days. The Mommy is usually in control around here.
But I still love to remember that feeling – zooming along the highway on the back of a Harley with my (then) dream man…
Want to read more great stories? Check out Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.