A Triumph -no, not a brand of motorcycle..

Wednesday, July 18th 2007 was a great day. The following Friday was even better.

I was nervous and apprehensive. Lysa had urged me on for the last few weeks, and had become more insistent the days leading up to this. Since day one when I woke up in the hospital I missed my bike. I missed riding, my friends and the freedom. At that time my longing wasn’t a problem, getting healthy and returning home to my family was. Regardless of what was happening at any given time, no matter the situation, I found myself not only wishing to be able to stand and hug my loved ones, but to be able to get back into the wind. I wasn’t dead, and neither was my spirit.

I became determined to get back to living, and living my way. My parents taught me to never give up and I have always been a fighter. So I pushed myself hard, probably too hard at times, but I pushed until I knew I was back. But still, the longing lingered.

Lysa could see through everything I was doing and knew I was becoming depressed. Yes, I was more functional after all the therapy, and yes, since the company waited for me I was able to return to my job but although both were huge accomplishments my sadness was somehow increasing.

So after much pushing and shoving, my loving wife finally hit me with a baseball bat and forced me to go looking for a new ride. I knew she was right, and although money was tight I looked nervously for a nice used bike. Hell, I even looked at imports. (Don’t be mad.. I was desperate!) But Lysa finally banged it home. She said “You didn’t have a used bike before the accident, you shouldn’t ride one after.” That was it. On Wenesday I found the bike I wanted for so long in a 2007 model Harley-Davidson Street Glide - and got it at a nice price from Mike’s Famous. Yep, the king of High Prices swore me a good deal after the accident (I think it was both the cane and Lysa helping me walk shortly after the accident that made him do it) and he stuck to his word. I knew what price they would do, and told Lysa to negotiate it down to it for me, and man, was she ever proud.

After a longggg Thursday and an even longer Friday, the time had arrived. The wife and I trekked over to Mike’s for the pickup, and knowing the situation well enough that I might get a bit emotional they allowed me to get the bike out back instead of out front in case I got emotional, or had a total-mind explosion or forgot how to ride or whatever. When I first threw my leg over, I did indeed need a moment. The time I was aware in the hospital flashed before me, the tears of family and friends, every ounce of pain, and then the joy of smiles and laughter when I was feeling better and eventually discharged. Getting home with my family in-tow and being more determined to get better. That damned bag and tube I had to empty and clean every day. The joy of walking down the hallway after it was removed. Every single hug and kiss I received from my wife, mother and mother in-law. All of it, all at once, and I couldn’t go anywhere. But dammit, this was my day, and for once, the good guy won. Start the damned bike!

I did, and I smiled. I smiled, laughed and had a tear. Just one tear thought.. I was at a Harley dealer, can’t get caught crying there. So I pulled out front where my wife was ready with her camera, shooting a little video of me, all smiles. When she hugged me, I felt all was right, and I was indeed doing the right thing.

The bike is a little top-heavy compared to my old Wide Glide, and a shorter rake out didn't help in adjusting to the new ride. But once I got through the first couple turns I relaxed a little and was able to enjoy the ride. Much more comfortable, and easier on my bad back. Even the short time Lysa has had on the bike had her giving praise. A fancy radio which I swore I would never want, or at the most barely use, actually grew on me within the first 10 minutes. I thought it would be distracting but it only adds to the experience.

For so many reasons, I grinned the entire ride home.