This is an entry in the 2020 Summer Lovin Contest. Votes are appreciated! Thanks!
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My mom told me once that my dad always wanted a little girl. When I got here, he treated me like a little boy. I was a skinny tomboy with dirty blonde hair always running after my big brothers, only to return home in muddy dresses and ripped tights much to my mom's displeasure. I'm the baby girl in a family of rough necks. And I love it.
It's been a year since I last visited my dad in his modest two bedroom house in a rural agricultural California town. His burly fingers turned on the garage light and we stepped out of the house into his collection of motorcycles cluttering his organized garage. He once rode motorcycles all the time. I rode on the back of his many times and he taught me how to ride one on my own. But now, at his age, if he goes down, he isn't getting up. I'm glad he recognizes that. Still, he likes fixing and selling them. He bought a leather sewing machine to mend and make seats and other leather accessories in his retirement years.
"Here," he said, ripping the bike cover off of one.
I smiled. The black motorcycle with chrome pipes was a beauty.
"A 2010 Yamaha V Star 950," he said. "Smooth, light, easy to handle. I checked her over, put on new brakes for yuh. She's good to go."
I ran my hands over the handlebar asking, "How do you know it's a she?"
"She's got a fat ass, she's dependable and I loooove to ride her on a Saturday night."
I shook my head and chuckled. "Oh, dad."
My hand trailed down the tank to the leather seat as I circled the bike. I swung my leg over it and gripped the handlebars as I sat on the seat. I easily sat upright which is good for touring.
"Let's take her out," he said, hitting the garage door opener. "I wanna see you ride before I let her go."
He always made me prove my riding abilities. When he took off my bike's training wheels or the first time I was allowed to ride a dirt bike in the So Cal deserts near the Salton Sea, he made me ride in a straight line in front of him before I was allowed my freedom.
As the door rattled open, I unstraddled the bike and kicked up the kickstand to walk the bike out to the street of this working class neighborhood of bungalows with withered brown lawns. I got on and started it, revving it a few times before riding off. I rode to the end of the street before turning around to cruise by my dad now standing on the sidewalk. A few houses down, I turned around again and as I made another pass, I popped a wheelie with the front tire in the air and rode it for the length of the house.
He shouted, "Hey! No showing off!"
The tire set down with complete control before easing the bike around once more to motor it up the driveway into the garage before turning off the idling engine. My dad sauntered back up the driveway and closed the garage door.
"You're right, dad. This bike is perfect."
He smiled. "Come on. Let's get out of this heat."
We returned inside and stepped into the kitchen.
"Beer?" he asked, opening the refrigerator door.
"No. Water, please."
He handed me a bottle of cold water before grabbing a can of beer. Twisting off the cap, I glanced around his cluttered kitchen before guzzling the chilled water. My eyes settled upon my older brothers' military portraits lined up in a row. My senior portrait sat at the end.
He popped open the can of beer and chugged a bit before asking, "So you're riding with your aunt Taylor for what now?"
"I'm writing a piece for LIVEwire. They're a digital magazine. I've written two pieces for them already and they like my work. They're interested in photographs too. They gave me an advance."
"And they're interested in Taylor?"
"Yeah, well she's a successful entrepreneur in the tech world which is a unicorn in itself. I pitched the idea to profile her and mentioned she rides in a women's motorcycle club based in San Francisco. That's what got their attention. They'll probably market it as some lesbian biker gang story, but I want to present it as females banding together just to ride. You know, cool feminists. One of the ladies fought cancer. If things go well, I might be able to turn it into a book."
Dad sipped from his can before muttering, "She's going to turn you into a lesbian, you know."
"You can't turn someone into lesbian. You either are or you aren't. Do you think aunt Taylor is gay?"
He shrugged. "I mean I don't care if she's a lesbian or you're a lesbian. I'll love you either way. You're my little girl."
I hugged him. "I love you more than anything, dad."
He patted my shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you suited and booted."
We entered his small guest bedroom he used for storage. He slid open the door and retrieved a worn black leather motocross jacket with white striped green sleeves.
"You need some protective leather," he said, taking it off the hanger to hand to me.
It was hard to imagine my beefy dad fitting into the slim stiff jacket. It fit well but my tits squished together when zipped up. He reached up onto the closet shelf to retrieve two motorcycle helmets.
"These belonged to your brothers. Which one do you want?"
One was a full face. The other was a half matte black cruiser helmet with a visor. I tried on both and chose the half helmet. It wouldn't provide much protection if I go down but it was just way more comfortable.
He set the other one on the bed before returning to the closet.
"I made this for you."
He bent down to retrieve black leather saddlebags with silver studs and handed it to me. My initials KM were embossed on a pouch's corner. I was truly in awe.
"It has locks on it," he said, pointing the security features. "Took me a couple of weeks to make."
I accepted it as I would a holy relic and said, "Thank you, daddy. It's beautiful. Thank you."
I hugged my dad to breathe in his scent I've always found calming and reassuring. We disengaged and I picked up the helmet and the saddlebags. Dad and we left the room. Back in the garage, he secured my saddlebags to the bike. I shoved my purse into one and latched it close before putting on the helmet.
With a low cowboy movie voice he said, "Travel light. Take baby wipes and water. You be careful out there. There's lots assholes on the road."
