When I was about 11-years-old, my dad owned a motorcycle.
I would hop on the back (I think we’ve already determined that my parents weren’t at the forefront of child safety), and we would head to the local fudge shop. Obviously, the fact that I got to ride on the back of my dad’s motorcycle and eat fudge pretty much made me the coolest tween on the block.
And years later, when I was a student in Spain, I would leave a Madrid bar at 3 in the morning, jump on some Spaniard’s motorcycle and enjoy an exhilarating, high speed spin around the city.
And in my twenties, I went on a number of dates with someone who I didn’t exactly have a love connection with but I was madly in love with his motorcycle. I still miss that bike.
So I was quite intrigued when I recently took a gorgeous 4th of July cruise. The trip was courtesy of my friends Bruce and Alex who own City Lights Cruises. And Bruce happened to mention that he just bought a motorcycle.
And maybe some people would think – that sounds kind of dangerous for a family man. But I thought, that sounds AWESOME. And hey, why doesn’t my husband own a motorcycle?!
So I turned to my husband Rick…
“Honey, Bruce bought a motorcycle. How cool is that?! Would you ever consider buying a hog so we can ride around like bad ass renegades?”
“Hmmm… I don’t think so. Maybe a scooter,” he answered.
Very bad ass.