I fell in love with my husband while on the back of his motorcycle. It was summertime and we were home from our different colleges just wasting time until the new semester started. None of our old friends had returned, and my best friend, Lori, was practicing being a siamese twin with her boyfriend.
Mike taught sailing lessons at a lake and rode a motorcycle. I thought he was fascinating.
We rode all around town for countless hours on that motorcycle. By the end of summer, I didn't know it, but I was in love.
Four kids and a mortgage later, we still love to ride around on the motorcycle. I think we like it so much because we can pretend that we are still those carefree college kids we used to be. We can pretend we don't have dishes stacked in the sink and bills stacked on the desk. We can pretend that the kids are merely cute, not future citizens whose lives we are shaping.
But, it doesn't always work out the best. The last time we took a long ride, the day was glorious. It was sunny and the warm wind blew all my troubles away. We rode for a long time and felt like adventurers discovering places we had never been before. Then we decided to stop by the store and pick up some bread. However, I saw that barbeque sauce was substantially marked down. I got four bottles. Then I remembered we needed a gallon of milk. And juice. And I kept seeing reduced prices on all the kid's favorite foods.
Seven. We bought seven bags of groceries. We got onto the motorcycle and drove through the pick up lane. The helpful man who was paid to load groceries into cars looked at us kind of crooked, so I told him to just load the bags onto our arms. With seven bags of heavy groceries balancing in odd places, we rode home to our dishes and bills.
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