I have things to say. Experiences to share. Frustrations that need to be aired.

I am a biker’s wife.

Sometimes I ride along for a day, a week, two weeks. Often I stay at home and manage our lives, our family, and my time alone. I’ve watched bikes being purchased, I’ve sat in hospital rooms with chewed nails, I’ve looked to the sky on a beautiful day and thought, “This right here? This is why I ride.”

I started this journey with my husband 10 years ago. I had never been on the back of a motorcycle before, so at nearly 40 years old, I was a bit nervous. For both of us. But he had been riding off and on his whole life and has such a passion for it. So I had a choice to make — cross my arms and let the wedge slide between us … or hop on.

A decade later, I’ve been on multiple rides. I even learned to ride myself, and for a while had my own Can Am. Great freedom, but I quickly realized that I’m more of a passenger. I like to look around. I like to zone out while staring at the sky and the tops of trees. I like being a second set of eyes when it’s twilight and the deer are out, or when we’re in heavy traffic, or when we’re looking for a place to eat, sleep or take a break. In my professional life, I’m a take-charge kind of woman. As a mom, a wife, a daughter and a sister, I get shit done. But on the back of a motorcycle, I like the relaxation of being the passenger.

So, here I am, 10 years later. My husband is on a long weekend ride with his buddies. I’m at home alone. I have things to say. Let’s go.