Germany From the Back of a Motorbike

The year before high school graduation, a classmate I barely knew was killed while riding on the back of her boyfriend's motorcycle. Her tragic and untimely death had such an impact on me that I never got on another motorcycle again.

Fast forward thirty years and entering stage left comes a man who has swept me off my feet and caused me to consider trying new and different things because I want to share in his excitement and joy the same way he wants to share in my interests. When Mario and I first began talking on the phone and he mentioned his love for motorbiking, I told him I thought that was great for him but I didn't ride on motorcycles. He never pressured me but when he spoke excitedly about motorbiking he would occasionally say "I hope someday we can do this together. I would really love to go motorbiking with you."

Eventually, love won out. I wanted the two of us to share in each other's interests and when I thought about it, motorbiking combined Mario's love of being out on the bike with my loves of the outdoors, travel and photography. I consented to ride on the bike with him but made it clear that I didn't want to go too fast and I didn't want to be scared. If either of those occurred, it would likely be my last ride.

My second day in Germany we decided to go for a test ride to see how I liked it and, if I liked it, we would commence to buy all the motorbiking gear I would need in order to ride safely. In Germany, it is the law that you wear a helmet. It's also highly recommended that you have a motorcycle jacket with padding, motorcycle pants with padding, gloves and special boots. The first ride was a little bit scary. Not because Mario went too fast or anything bad happened, but because I needed to let go of my fears. Despite those fears, I could tell that this was something I could really learn to love if I just allowed myself to do so.

As of my third week here, I've had all my motorbiking gear. When I put it all on I feel like a Storm Trooper or Ralphie's kid brother from the movie "A Christmas Story", in the scene where the little brother falls down in the snow and his snowsuit is so huge and thick he can't get up. I've learned to move and manuever better in my gear and I know it makes me safer. I've also learned to always wear my hair in a ponytail before putting my helmet on because it's not fun trying to brush all the windblown knots out of my hair after being on the bike all day. Another tip, it's wise to sacrifice a little bit of beauty and vanity...earrings really hurt when my helmet is smashing the posts into the sides of my head like the screws on the sides of Frankenstein's neck.

What I thought I might love about being on the motorbike has turned out to be true: I enjoy being outdoors, I enjoy traveling around even if it's local and I love taking all the photographs of places, buildings and people. I'm happy that Mario and I have something we enjoy doing together. Surprisingly, the thing I love most about riding on the back of the motorbike is something I never considered: the feeling of freedom.

When I'm on the back of the bike there are no worries. There's no stress about work or money and day-to-day pressures disappear. If I woke up that morning and my mood wasn't what I would have liked it to be, being out on the motorbike lifts my spirits as if lifting my mood higher and higher with each passing kilometer. On the back of the bike Mario and I are one entity. There is nothing to disturb or distract us and our only companions are the wind, the road and the scenery.

In the past month, I've seen and experienced many areas of Germany on the back of the bike. If you asked me, on a sunny day with decent temperatures, if I'd rather travel by car or bike I'd most likely say "Motorbike, please." The view is different, the peace undeniable and how else can I travel and see the land with my arms wrapped tight around the waist of the man I love?

From the back of Mario's motorbike I've seen magnificent fields of flowers, old castles, a brown charcoal mine, various parts of the Rhine River, quaint little villages, and people going through the motions of everyday life. Somehow or another, it's all a bit more meaningful and magical on the back of the bike.

Mario says that one day I need to have my own motorbike and my adamant reply is always "no thank you!" Aside from the fact that I simply don't want one, why would I want to sacrifice the magic that occurs when we ride together? And why would I want to foresake the peace and contentment that awaits me in my spot on the back of the bike?