My Man and His Motorcycle

There’s just something sexy about a guy on a motorcycle. There, I said it. But not just any guy. My guy, my husband. (After 3 years, I still like saying that: my husband.)

I married a man who, as long as I have known him, stands by the insistence that he needs a motorcycle. Not just wants one, but absolutely needs one. And when he is riding, it isn’t hard to see why.

Even from my place on the back of the bike, with my arms wrapped securely around him, I can tell he is in his element. If ever he had a thing, motorcycles are his thing. He loves to take his turns and speed down hills, and I have learned to enjoy those things too when I ride on the back. When he shifts, and I feel the sudden jolt…I can’t help but smile. It’s fun.

He got me a motorcycle jacket, a real motorcycle jacket, for our anniversary. So, of course, today we went on a ride.

He took us to Mormon Lake, and I was struck with how beautiful the scenery was—pine trees, mountains, a vast green canvas of wetlands…

Mormon Lake

It also wasn’t even that hot, which I was thankful for especially since I had on the jacket, jeans, and boots. I hardly paid attention to where he was going; I just looked around me at the trees and the lake and enjoyed the breeze.

And my husband was in his element the whole time. All smiles.

Maybe that’s why I find him on his motorcycle so attractive—because I know that is his thing. I know that is when he is happiest, and it shows every time. Maybe it’s because, even though I am bare to the wind and road, I feel safe when I am on the bike with him because I know I can trust him. Maybe it’s that trust, that willingness to let my controlling nature go, that I find so appealing.

Today was beautiful in many ways. But mostly because I got to spend it, carefree, with my motorcycle-obsessed man.


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