Fly the Friendly Skies 

I remember a time when flying to another city or state was an adventure and something that we all dressed up for because it was a big occasion where we impressed our loved ones at the end of the journey or the people we worked for. It was an opportunity where they could see how nice we looked or how much we've changed. There was a time when people would turn towards you in their seats and carried on a decent conversation about where they were traveling to, who they are, what their interests were and what our plans entailed once we got to where we were going. The aisles in the plane were broad and the seats cushy and comfortable with room for our legs and arms to stretch. How much has changed since those simple days where politeness, courtesy and consideration, and even an occasional smile ruled. Welcome to 40+ years ago... Today, I see on the faces of strangers and the rush of impersonal aggravation.

My first observation was how busy the world has become, everyone traveling to and fro. It made me wonder if people didn't work anymore since the lines at the check-in counter and waiting areas were quite full. Every plane appeared to be filled to capacity with single men and women, married couples and families, lots and lots of children. No longer do we arrive at the airport a half an hour before our flight leaves, but we're required to show up one-to-two hours ahead of schedule just so we can get past the security inspections. This makes for a really long day when traveling.

I observed upon boarding our flight how thinly padded the seats were as well as having barely eighteen inches of space between myself and the shoulder I touched next to me. The aisle of the plane was scarcely enough to pass a set of thirty eight inch hips let alone all of the baggage one carries-on with them. It may seem that people got larger and the planes smaller therefore packing folks in like a can of sardines. Not a good situation where someone invades your own personal space. I don't like sleeping too close to my husband let-alone sitting that close to a stranger, especially when they're touching me. It's kinda creepy.

I watched as anxious people boarded their flights in helter-skelter fashion hurrying to get to their next destination even if it meant trampling across someone else to get there without saying excuse me, or sorry to have stepped on your toes; and "Oh? By the way, my carry-on luggage is really too big to fit in the overhead compartment, so I hope you don't mind if I move your stuff. Do you?" Imagine sitting on the aisle row and having people bashing you in the head with their excess crap before they get a chance to place it in the bin above. So basically you're saying, "I'm a selfish idiot for not checking in my bag, but you'll understand, right?"

There wasn't even enough room to share the armrest or turn your face to your traveling companion without smelling their bad breath, cigarette stench, hairspray, body odor, awful cologne or perfume and heaven forbid! Smell the aroma of their farts... Now really, couldn't you have least gone to the toilet in the back of the plane where there's a fan? How awful to place the blame on an innocent unsuspecting passenger in the same row. I'm sure the people behind us we're thinking just as badly about our row as we were about theirs.

In today's world we have computers, laptops, headphones cell phones, blueberries, blackberries and whatever other berry you can think of. Instead of learning about other people, we see how impersonal interaction has become the norm. People sit down and begin calling, or computing, or texting, or numerous other activities that don't require them to pay attention to other people around them. It's too uncomfortable to talk to strangers and it may interfere with their precious time and self importance so let's all put on the headphones and ignore them.

There used to be a time when the airlines extended a breakfast, lunch or dinner. Not anymore! Now we have crackers, cookies, pretzels and/or liquor, soda, juice or water. Just great! Everything to make you even more dehydrated and down your lousy miniscule allotment of fluids so you can try to navigate the tiny aisle back to the bathroom that's only big enough to seat a chimp. Pleease...forget about peeing when you're coming upon approach to the tarmac. The airline stewardess, hostess or should I say attendant (maybe waitress better describes them) who knows, stops you dead in your tracks because she's got her little butt pad attendant seat flipped over guarding the restroom door like a lioness. And to think, that poor little four year old girl had to go so bad and we had to wait yet another twenty minutes before hooking up to the gate. How cruel! I was almost at the point of getting up and telling her (the stewardess) that if I didn't go to pee now, she'd have to watch me drop my drawers in the aisle and pee on the floor right next to her.

Even the flight attendants these days have a glazed look in their eyes, like their bored to death having to repeat their little flying instruction routine and pretend it's a glamorous job being an airline hostess when they know that they're actually flying a big bus in the sky. The only reason they may have chosen this career in the first place was to "see the world"; instead, all they see are the insides of the next airport and a hotel room.

And what about the wait? Not only do you have to arrive early, but then wait and wait and wait. You wait in line to check in, you wait at the gate lounge area, you wait seated in the plane for take-off, you wait after arrival for a slot into the gate and then you wait again at another gate lounge to catch your next flight. Then you wait once again if they lost your luggage or run into any other snags like bumping you from a flight that you had scheduled six months earlier just so you could be there on time. Is it no wonder that people are so angry?

Now I could on and on about getting bumped off a flight and many other perils of flying in the modern age, but as for me, I'd like to remember the pleasantries of the past and vow never to fly again... Besides, it's still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that there's nothing underneath my feet but air and clouds and a little bit of metal at 12,000 feet in the sky. There truly must be a God...

After almost 16 years of discussion and many reasons why my husband didn't want me to get a motorcycle, he finally said YES! I can't believe it... I was really stunned!

Did I get my bike? Yes I did! Everything happened so fast that I didn't even have time to get buyers remorse, nor did I feel I should have. You see, my husband was always pushing me towards a Trike (a 3-wheeled monstrosity). Not that I didn't like them, there are some beautiful Trikes out there these days and we used to own one many years ago that he and his stepfather had built. We had lots of fun and attention everywhere we went from our two wheeled cousins; however, I had my heart set for more than 20 years on a motorcycle. He felt a Trike was a safer alternative to a two wheeler, but with so many women riding these days, and just recently it seemed like every couple we know had wives or girlfriends showing up on their new machines. A few years back I counted about 1 out of 4 riders in this state being female. These days the count appears to be quickly rising and...why shouldn't he consider it, his Mom had one!

Back in the day before I met my husband I used to run with a pretty rough crowd of bikers. My family of motorcycle enthusiasts ranged from a School Teacher and her Janitor husband, a former Restaurateur turned Car Salesman, a State Lottery Winner, a Motorcycle Mechanic, an Alaska Fisherman, current and Ex-Military folks, lots and lots of Harley Owner Group Members and even for a short time some criminal 1%'ers. Everyone had one thing in common, a love for riding motorcycles, especially Harley Davidsons.

I've been an enthusiast since I was 6 years old and fell off the back of my father's little scooter. Not a motorcycle scooter, but the kind you see in European movies where everyone rides around the town circle like madmen out on a mission. Italy is most famous for that one... My next initiation was when I was 12 or 13 and I hopped on the back of my first Harley with some older teenage boy who came down our street to visit with his girlfriend and show off his new bike. Good thing that was in the day when I actually came home, considering nowadays if a young girl were to do the same thing she might disappear forever.

When I was married to my first husband, we also had a Harley and my son was practically born on it. I rode with him until I was 8 months pregnant (not smart, but I was young and stupid), and then later on my son was tucked in my jacket and rode in-between us until we could no longer ride three on a bike (again not smart), but God must've been with me until I wised up. After my divorce, I was drawn to what felt familiar and that was bike people. I tried to stay out of it a few years and ran with a totally different crowd, but that's another story...

I learned to ride twenty some years ago from two wonderful guys I knew, one I was dating at the time and the other was just a very good friend. He was the Alaskan Fisherman and also a custom bike builder in his spare time. His own personal bike was a 1200cc custom built Super Glide. This was the first bike I learned to ride. I wished I had a video of it because I think it was the highest high I had ever experienced. It was awesome! You should have seen the smile on my face. The second ride was on a 450cc Honda that my date taught me on to get the feel of the road underneath my wheels.

My current love has never seen me ride, so he assumed that I couldn't even though I said I could, so after he agreed we went to the dealership and looked them over. I had gone to the shop the day before to order a part for his bike and tried sitting on a couple just day-dreaming never thinking that the very next day I would actually own one.

Did I buy a Harley? NO, I wanted something that I could handle, looked good, was reliable (not in the shop all the time), and didn't cost my first born or an arm and a leg. Besides, Harleys have gotten so over priced along with the accessories and clothing that it just didn't make financial sense to me. Yes, I still have my entire Harley shirts, patches, pins and leather stuff all packed away for some day when my husband decides to buy his Soft Tail Deluxe, but for now this is MY bike and I absolutely love it! What did I get? She's a beautiful black beauty cruiser 650cc Yamaha 2007 V-Star Silverado Classic.

Because I've gotten such a good deal on it money wise; I was able to add lots of new accessories, something I wouldn't have done if I had bought a Harley; so I'm currently adding lots more chrome goodies on it and really personalizing it to my own tastes. Of course, the first big expense was a Mustang Seat, a must have if you plan on doing some serious riding. I've decided to call her Freyja - Queen of the Valkyries and wife to Odin.

Last weekend we decided to go to the Coliseum parking lot and have my first practice run to get used to this new machine. It's been so long since I drove that I was a little apprehensive, but from the get-go I took off on it like it was meant to be and the look on my husband's face was worth millions. He was beaming and looked so proud that I handled it quite well. Said I looked rather sexy on it and Boy! Did that spark romance later that evening.

One thing I never expected to happen was being just as enthusiastic about looking through my husbands cycle magazines for parts and accessories and working in the garage right along side of him putting them on. It felt great to be able to share another part of our lives and future adventures together.

I'm a lucky girl, a husband who loves me and still thinks I'm sexy; and owning a brand new motorcycle. There's nothing more powerful than that.