The Sportster: The Last Day in Deadwood- The Ride

Once we got past our issues it turned out to be a pretty great weekend. We left the bikes at a friend of D’s in Sturgis the night before. There wasn’t room in the hotel parking lot for the trailer and D wasn’t comfortable parking the bikes out in the open.

So the next day we got up early, picked the bikes up and rode up to Hill City. It was the last day of our mini vacation and I wanted to get sometime on the Sportster before it went back to Omaha. The total ride would be just over 100 miles. I was nervous about the distance.

What if I got tired and couldn’t ride any further? What if I wrecked the bike in the hills in between? What happened if a big old logging truck came up behind me? What if the weather suddenly turned bad? They were all questions I rambled off in the truck on the way to Sturgis, playing with my helmet in my lap.

“It’ll be fine. If you get tired Teddy’s wife will ride your bike back and you can get on with Jay.” D said as he stared blankly out the windshield.

I sighed, not overly happy with the answers I was getting. There would be no truck to ride back in if it rained, I’d freeze my ass off in my leathers instead. If the bike was wrecked it would probably take 30 minutes or more for someone to show up. There would be some truck traffic, but not a lot. I should feel safe because Jay and D would be right there with me the entire time.
Staring out the windshield of the truck I remembered the feeling that something was going to happen to me and the Sportster. I silently prayed it wouldn’t start.

That prayer was one of the unanswered ones, the Sportster fired right up, no fuss about it. I’m sure I was shaking as I stood with it between my legs. Sometimes I have a balancing issue when first starting out; normally I can get it sorted out as soon as the bike starts moving, which I did. We were out of the driveway before I could even second guess myself.

D and Teddy rode side by side in the front, then Jay and me, and right behind us Garza on his big Honda that should probably be in a scrap yard.

I settled into the ride and attempted to kill all the nervousness in my body. This was my first “trip” on the bike. I felt a rush of pride as I remembered where I had started, on the back of Bowman’s bike, my hands tensely on his shoulders. I glanced down to my relaxed hands on the grips; I knew if he could see me he’d be proud.

I looked over at Jay and for a second I saw Bowman and the big Blue King next to me.

I felt a small pang in my heart as I realized I missed the Blue King, but it wasn’t pain I felt that time when I thought about Bowman. It was happiness and thankfulness. Thankful for him giving me the "Biker Bug", as my Momma calls it. Thankful that he left the option out of me getting on the Blue King and his patience while I nervously settled into riding.  But mostly thankful for every second he had been in my life.

I looked ahead and watched the guys in front of me, realizing that if it hadn’t been for D sheltering me, for great friends, I wouldn’t have anything. It was then I realized that no matter what, I do have someone who loves me, if everything falls apart D will be right there to catch me. I realized then as D looked over his shoulder at the stop light and smiled at me, that Sonny wasn’t talking about a soul mate, she was talking about a man who loved me more then I could ever imagine, a man who had no biological ties to me treating me as if I was his own flesh and blood, his own daughter. “Love develops in the oddest places.” I knew he’d realized what it meant, I figured he’d brought me back to Deadwood in hopes I would figure it out too.

“Hey You!” Jay hollered.

I turned my head as we waited for the lights to turn.

“You okay?” He asked.

I nodded, “Just fine.” It was then I felt the emotion rush over me. I realized that maybe all I need to know is that Bowman is happy with his life now and that he maybe treasures those few months we were us as much as I do. Maybe all I need to think is that he is proud I'm riding, just maybe. And sometimes all I need is the reassuring feel of his hand on my knee when I am on the bike and scared.

I realized then that sometimes people can’t love you the way you want them to, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love you the best they know how.
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We rolled forward, through Sturgis and Deadwood, up through the hills and across the Pectola Reservoir, and finally into Hill City. The Sportster cruised nicely along, giving me no fuss. The rush of closure and happiness brought me to tears a couple of times. I was thankful for my big sunglasses, because I knew the guys wouldn’t be able to see me cry.

When a big logging truck came rushing up on us I felt his hand on my knee and could almost hear him smile and say "you are going to be just fine. Don't be scared."

In the end I survived my first trip on my own bike, I mustered a 100 miles even though there are no words to explain how sore I was the next day, and along the way I found the final piece I had been searching for.

Will I ever stop loving Bowman?    Probably not.

Will I let that stop me from loving someone else?  No

Am I hopeful that at some point our paths will join back up?   Of course, I still feel as if he’s the other half of my soul.

Am I in a rush for it to happen?   Not anymore…

No right now I am going to teach myself how to love again, I’m going to enjoy being friends with him, and attempt to fix the friendship. I’m going to learn how to become a better and more confident rider, and even a better person as a whole. But most of all I am going to find the passion for life I’ve been missing since things fell apart in October.

All because of that first ride last summer and those tense hands on black leather.
All because of a love that taught me who I was meant to be…. 
All because I want to be a “Biker Bitch” (also my Momma’s saying).

But mostly because of The Sportster and the unanswered prayer…