On our recent trip to Lancaster, PA, with great friends the six of us made a plan to take a thirty-mile motorbike tour of covered bridges. Fun, right? Well, the three of us women started chickening out at the last minute.
It started when we saw the scooters. I don't know what images the other ladies had in their heads about what this scooter would look like, but I can tell you my image was made by Mattel. And, oh how wrong I was!
It was a Harley. Okay, it wasn't, but it may as well have been. It was big and black and loud and fast.
I was determined, though. I had made a promise to myself that I would leave my usual scaredy-cat self home and I would face this fear like my sister has had to face her recent health trauma. It was important that I prove to myself that I can be strong and fearless. It was my way of confirming that I can fulfill the promise I made to my father on the day he died. I vowed to assume his role in taking care of our family. A lot of pressure was riding on that scooter, huh?
Well, I fell off the damn thing, skinned my knee ,and decimated my pride . Let's just say I wasn't great at navigating turns.
Did I fail in my promise to myself? Did I let down the vow I made to Dad? No. That's not how I see it. Here's why:
I actually donned the heavy helmet, strapped it on tight. I sat on the big black seat and followed the tour guide's instructions. I practiced, I crossed a busy street, I made a left, I did it. So, I was strong and fearless in a way, but I was also wise. I was wise enough not to get back on the stupid thing and risk breaking a limb because what good would I be to my sister and my mother and the rest of my family if I was in a cast?
The story has an even happier ending. The three of us ladies let our menfolk go off on the motorbikes and we went to a winery. I excelled there, my friends.