As I child, I was a tomboy and liked to play with the little boys and do what the little boys liked to do. I tinkered around with things and rough housed with the boys proving that I could play as rough, or harder than, they could.

I was around people that rode motorbikes. My step-dad rode a bike and was in a club. My uncles, and cousins rode bikes. So, I was fascinated by them. I was always ready to get on and ride. I got my first burn on my leg when I was twelve years old, but that didn’t stop me from riding. I was just ready for the next ride.

When I got older, my first boyfriend rode a motorcycle, a Goldwing. He used to pick me up all the time, and we would be in the wind, day and night, hot or cold. It didn’t matter as long as I was riding. So, finally he taught me to ride on that big Goldwing. Right after I learned, I got pregnant with my son. Brought everything to a halt. But, in spite of that, I still had that drive to want to ride.

I could hear a motorcycle in the neighborhood, and my antennas would pick up on it and try to locate it. I would pull my car over on the side of the road, just to get a ride on a bike. I never asked his name, phone number, or tried to get with him. I just wanted to ride.

I was riding with another fella one day. We were flying up this long country road. We got to the top of the hill, and there was nothing but gravel and fence line. There was no way, we would be able to stop without wrecking out. I just prepared to fall, and stay away from the hot pipe. No serious injuries. Got up, dusted myself off, and was ready to ride again. I always knew one day, I would ride.

I finally got the chance in 2001. The opportunity to get my own bike. I was so excited. I didn’t think I would remember because it had been a minute since I rode myself. But I picked it back up. The guys I rode with showed me no mercy. It was either keep up or get left behind. It was challenge at first, but I did it. My first bike was a ZX600R (Ninja).

Then I rode with the funeral escort service for a minute on the police motorcycles (KZ1000). I thought that was neat. My next bike was ZX9 (Ninja), and then I went to the Busa. I’m on my second Busa now.

I don’t ride just for the look, to be cute, or sexy! Well, that’s an added incentive. But, I ride, because I enjoy it. The adrenal rush!! There’s nothing like it. I will never stop riding until I’m just too weak to hold that piece of iron up. I might change bikes, but the thrill of the ride will not stop.

Riding has been in my family for years… Both sides have had motorcycles in their past.. My great grand father on my dads side rode and my uncles on my moms side built bikes as a hobby…

I fell in love with them when my brother bought his first “crotch rocket” when i was in my mid-teens… I didnt start riding myself until my late 20s… I bought a 1972 Honda 550four at auction and loved that POS for two seasons.. then life happened…

A major move… Kids… A rough break up… Once i was out on my own i didnt know how to handle the anxiety of being alone for the first time in my life… I always had someone with me and doing everything on my own with two small boys was overwhelming… So i started drinking, a lot.

Every chance i had when i didnt have my boys i got drunk… When i did have them i always had a bottle of wine to sip on… One day i really sat back and looked at my life… What i was putting myself through… What i was missing out on as far as my boys were concerned and i hated what i saw… So i started trying to figure out what i could do other than drink my life away….

I went to help out at my church for a community event one weekend and there were some Ruff Ryderz there volunteering and thats when it hit me… Imma get another bike… I would never drink and ride and i know it’s something that will make me happy long term instead of just for a few hours…

Three years later i barely touch alcohol. My passion for riding has taken me places i never thought I’d see… I got to live out a dream of mine that I’ve had since i was a teenager and that was getting on the track…

My boys are getting more and more interested in bikes.. And i’ve made so many meaningful relationships with people i never would have met if i didn’t ride…

Riding literally changed and probably saved my life….

I don’t really have an inspirational story on why I began riding. There was no life changing event that put be “behind bars”.

I have always thought motorcycles were the coolest things on the road but my parent were EXTREMELY OPPOSED to me riding. Even in my early adulthood, their opposition made me reluctant to get a bike as I didn’t want to make their lives even more stressful than I already have. I can admit I was a very difficult child to raise.

After I grew up, got married and had a child, I realized that my desperate need for an adrenaline rush wasn’t going anywhere. I managed to convince my husband that I needed a motorcycle. I explained that it would save money on gas for my morning commute so it was an “economical” move. Somehow, to my surprise, he agreed.

With help from one of my buddies that has been riding for a long time I bought my very first bike…2005 Suzuki GSXR 600. A few days later I decided to ride it to work (my first ride outside my neighborhood). That’s when everything changed. I became HOOKED…no other way to put it. I absolutely fell in love with everything about being on the bike. I love the short rides as much as the long ones. I enjoy the scenery, the feel of the wind, and most of all I loved the adrenaline rush I feel every time I’m on my bike.

Today I’m on my 3rd bike. A 2001 GSXR 1000, his name is TheBeast and we have a very special relationship. He definitely takes me to my “happy place” every time we spend time together. The longer trips tend to be a little bit uncomfortable on a sports bike, so a Harley Davidson is definitely in my future.
One thing I can say with complete confidence is that NOT riding will never be an option for me as long as I’m breathing.

As a child growing up in the suburbs of Long Island, NY I was always fascinated with motorcycles. Not because there were many around me, my next door neighbor being the only person I knew with a scoot, but because the notion of me on one fit with my rebellious nature. To say I was a handful to parents was an understatement. My mother refused to let me have a moped or dirtbike due to my reckless behavior and other such wonderful characteristics I displayed throughout childhood – broken bones at 3 different times and stitches all before I was 12. Thus, I was left to fantasize as I watched biker movies, which were fairly violent and raunchy, throughout the seventies and eighties.

In my early teens my neighbor, Love Smith, took me for a ride on his Harley Davidson. It was black, loud, huge and I was enthralled. I knew one day I would own a motorcycle. Maybe not the one he had but a bike nonetheless.

I finished school, went off to college, had my first child, settled into life in Harlem, NY and began my professional career. Then I turned 30. I felt that I had done all that was expected of me, from my parents standpoint, and had been a good mother to my daughter. It was now my turn for something special. New credit card in hand and off I go to purchase a motorcycle.

I didn’t know anyone who rode other than a few of the guys from the neighborhood who knew how to ride or were riding dirtbikes – none owning a motorcycle. I took one of these guys and to the bike shop we went. I purchased my first motorcycle, sportsbike, and had him ride it back to my block. My lessons consisted of going up and down the sidewalk, around the block several times and then I was on my own. With many mistakes to come I had to self teach myself other skills, leaning in a turn and not drifting into another lane being a very important one. I was a natural on a motorcycle.

I’ve owned two sportsbikes, Kawasaki ZX6 and ZX10R, and currently own a Harley Davidson Fatboy Lo. The sportsbike provided an adrenalin rush never before felt. I remember when I hit 100mph for the first time on the 6. I remember topping out at 187 on my 10. The rush from white lining between tractor trailers going into curves shook off most men who attempted to race with me. Yes, in the streets of NY I was that chick. Then I moved on to my Harley, Mr Dirty Dirty, and was provided a different type of rush. When I step off my hog I am as bad ass as they come, in my mind of course.

Now I’ve ridden all across the country, on my 10 and on my hog. My tires have touched the 48 continental states of America. I have ridden into Mexico. I had to rent in Hawaii. Alaska will be my next big journey. Solo cross country trips are becoming a staple of mine so I no longer count them as accomplishments. Just another road trip.

However, as I’ve been riding for the past 15 years, the reason I ride has taken on a different meaning for me, a metamorphosis so to speak. I used to ride for the thrill and excitement. I’ve always been a passionate rider. I was given Biker status, after my first solo cross country trek – 30 states in 21 days that included the Iron Butt challenge of 3000 miles in 72 hours. I thought I had arrived. But I began to realize something far greater than me – the inspirational women I came into contact with.

I know women who have physical ailments, such as Lupus, who ride. I had the honor of riding with a woman who had 12 brain surgeries and rode with a neck brace to keep her head steady on a trike – she could no longer ride any of her 2 wheeled hogs. I know women who can not enjoy the life on a bike such as we do for a variety of reasons. And I ride for each and everyone of them. I have seen women buried because of their love for riding and I lost a very close and special friend, Brown Suga, last year. They can no longer ride in this world, only in spirit. I ride for them knowing they are the wings beneath my tires. I ride for the women who can’t take the time off or have spare money, to traverse the country as I have done, because they are the primary care givers of their family and that comes first. The little girls who come talk to me as I sit on a curb by my scoot eating lunch in an unfamiliar state. I ride for them. All the women who give me the thumbs up, wave or take a pic as they see me and Dirty Dirty, fully packed, on the highways far from home. I ride for them. The women, young and old, who have been told they can’t do something, that’s a mans thing and any other type of put down to keep a woman in place and secluded from the world. I ride for you.

I RIDE FOR US

I ride for the freedom and fresh air. I love the rush of adrenaline that comes from high speeds and nice leans into turns. The feeling you get when your body molds into your machine and you connect with the road is almost indescribable. It’s the closest we come to physically flying. This was the feeling that I received after my first turn of the throttle, and I was hooked.

As I’ve grown into a mature rider, I’ve come to appreciate the sorority of women who ride. The fearlessness we exhibit bonds us across color lines. No matter where you go, you can always recognize a sister who rides. You speak the language of speed and wind. These relationships help to fuel my passion for speed and camaraderie. It’s this bond that I treasure most.

To any woman whose ever given a thought to riding a motorcycle, I encourage you to move outside of your comfort zone and learn to take flight.

My mother has been riding motorcycles since 1998, and I never really cared for it. She joined a motorcycle club in Connecticut called True Riders. They were extremely nice and loving towards me and any family members they met.

I started to hang around and ride on the back of the bikes of whom I was the closest to in her club, including on the back of my moms bike. I was happy just going to events and riding on the back here and there.

I was diagnosed with Lupus back in 2007 and became extremely sick. It got so bad that I couldn’t walk due to the excessive pain I endured. I remember thinking, theres no cure, I can die, but I haven’t lived yet. I mean so many thoughts ran through my head, and then a light bulb went off. I am going to learn how to ride! Whenever I get the opportunity and I am not in pain I am going to ride.

I began to take lessons, got my license and then we formed our own Bike Club called “Peaches & Cream MC”.

It’s been a struggle. Nobody will ever understand my struggles. When I am out riding, I feel like i am fighting my illness and winning. I feel superior and inspired to continue to do the things normal people are scared to do.

“Why Do I Ride” I ride because I never know when I might not be able to, I ride because there are times my body allows me to, I ride because I can encourage others by showing my determination and strengths, I ride because it is therapy and keeps me sane, I ride because I never know who God is going to introduce me to so that He may bless them, I ride because I want to. I can go on and on, but I ride not because people are watching, I don’t ride to be glorified, I don’t ride to be cool or noticed, I ride cause I want to and when I can. I am a fighter!!!

People are quick to make comments because people don’t ride as often as they can, they don’t ride as far as they can, they don’t ride as hard as they do. Tell me you have an illness with no cure, tell me your illness cripples you at times, tell me the type of pain you endure as you are leaned over riding on two wheels in the hot sun. Tell me you can ride with so many obstacles in your way. Tell me you can get back on after being struck by a car on the highway and seeing your life flash before your eyes….

Don’t worry what others think or feel, if you’re going to push yourself. Do it because its whats in your heart, because it is your passion. Really stop and think about “Why Do You Ride.” It’s a dangerous sport, in which people are dying constantly. If You are going to put your life at risk, ask yourself WHY and make sure you stand behind your WHY!!! God Bless and remember You can do ALL things Through CHRIST which Strengthens you!!!! #GodBless