Hello. My name is Ms. Insecurity. All of you have met me, but I thought I would tell you who I am. I am normally on the back of my man’s bike. Not because I enjoy the ride, but because I have to watch his every move. You see, we have been together for quite a while, but I don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust me. With that being said….I give attitude to every woman I see. I will accuse her of wanting my man and cause drama where there is none. I will either be overly loud, as to be seen, or I will be salty and throw shade.
When I am not there as his backpack. I will make his life hell, just to keep me on his mind. Every time he goes out to ride, I will blow up his phone. Calling and texting, and giving him attitude about not responding. Though I know, he can’t respond on the bike.
I will put him in a position to have to choose between me and the ride. I will nag and bitch until he is angry. His friends will not want him to bring me around because of my negative attitude. This will lead them to stop inviting him to ride and hang out.
I will put our business out in the street for all to see. A couple hours later, I will bitch about everyone being in my business.
Bottom line is……Ms. Insecurity is in every circle. She regularly belittles and disrespects her man. She makes him look weak. To She has the power to bring brothers to blows, to destroy chapters and bring nations to war.
I have been around the Motorcycle Set here in Seattle for a little while now. I started off by riding on the back and now have a Harley of my own. There are so many women with guys who ride that will not get on their dudes bike. This has always been pretty crazy to me – it’s what he does and if you want to be with him you better do it, or someone else might. I have often said that riding on the back of a bike is an exercise in trust and submission, a lesson a lot of woman can stand to learn, on and off a bike. To just give up and know he will care for you. To move your body and mind in concert with him helps you learn to let him be the man. Sadly it seem a lot of woman can’t do that and given a recent event my commitment to that philosophy is going to be tested.
On Jun 22 I was riding on the back of my dude Smashers bagger from Tacoma. We were with other club brothers and sisters. As we came around a corner on Route 7, I felt him get on it, nothing unusual, he is a confident 35 year veteran rider. In that split second I knew something was going wrong, the bike shook and the guardrail was coming right at us. I grabbed on to him harder and locked my legs into the bars.
The next thing I remember was my sis Lovely running past me, and some woman I don’t know holding me forcefully to the ground. I looked back to where Lovely had disappeared. I could see the love of my life about 20 feet away not moving, without a helmet on. I later learned it was completely destroyed and came off in the accident. My head started spinning, the greatest sense of panic and fear I have ever felt washed over me. He was just lying there in a ball. I started screaming SMASHER!!! SMASHER!!! LOVELY tell me he is alive.
SMASHER is my life; if I have any consolation for going through all the things in my life he is the million-dollar prize at the end of that. He loves me, cares for me, most of all he entertains my bullshit and holds a steady kind hand on me to keep me in line. In those first seconds the sense of possible loses was overwhelming. I managed to fight the woman holding me off and get up, even though I was pretty injured myself. In my fog all I could think was I had to get to him and hold him, if these were his last moments I wanted him to not be scared and know I loved him more than anything else. As I started for him I could see him start to move struggling to sit up and Lovely close to his face talking to him. I was still screaming SMASHER, MY MAN, SMASHER! I check my phone, saw it was not damaged, (OTTORBOX) I hit speed dial for his mother.
She answered, I quickly said we were in an accident, as I got up to him, he was fully sitting up but very disoriented. I handed him the phone, “Smasher it is your mother, talk to your mom”. He did for a few seconds, someone handed the phone back to me. From here on there was a lot of confusion, ambulances, club members, strangers and police. I recall the police wanting to do a field sobriety test on him, a guy who had lost his helmet in a motorcycle accident, me absolutely going nuts on them and Lovely trying to calm me down. I wanted to ride with him in the ambulance, but they wouldn’t let me. I wanted Lovely to take me to the hospital, but there was an ambulance there for me also. Through the confusion I was convinced to get in my own. I would not let them put braces on me or tie me down.
All things considered we were pretty lucky. I have a good size road rash on my leg and my hand. I am having some trouble with my fingers on my clutch hand moving exactly correctly which is most noticeable when I type. Sadly I was not dressed for the ride, it was not planned, I had just come from a job interview. I was wearing a full-face helmet, no gloves and dress pants.
Smasher was hurt a bit more, because his modular helmet was destroyed on impact. He cheekbone was broke, ear almost ripped off and some road rash on his arm. If he had, had a half shell on he would be dead, something to consider brothers and sisters. The biggest effect of him being knocked in the head is struggling with getting angry quick and even now after a month he feels dizzy if he moves his head quick.
You can read more about my experience at Tacoma General Hospital here…
You’re asking if we are riding again?
Well yes, we are, mostly him though, he started off immediately riding the piglet (my sportster) most days when he went back work. He bought his totaled bagger back and fixed it enough to ride it as soon as he took it off the truck. Duct tape, no crash bar and purple flame bags on a black bike, most importantly stereo works. Last weekend was Sun and Surf in Ocean Shores and he was committed to riding, though the original plan was to take my piglet down on the truck. I don’t feel apprehensive about getting back on my own, but can’t yet because the lack of strength in my clutch hand. I didn’t ride on the back of his bike to the event; 2 hours on the back with my leg still healing and bent would have never worked and I don’t feel ready for freeway riding yet.
I did ride with him while we were down there, though I was pretty scared. Sometimes even sitting on the couch I can see that accident getting ready to happen and I just shake.
It was pretty hard thing get on the back on, hard to give up that trust, hard to submit, but he is my man and I will follow where he leads, that is the natural correct order of life. Even on his duct taped Harley with mismatched bags!
It’s a man’s world. You can’t deny that. If God were a woman He would’ve chastised Adam for listening to Eve but instead he punished Eve by giving us the curse of painful child birth. Ask me and men should be pushing babies out their penis but again, no one asked me so I’ll keep that opinion to this page.
But in understanding that this is a man’s world we should also accept the fact that the MC is not just a man’s world, but it’s also their cave. It’s where they believe and know they run things, they set the rules, they can break the rules and basically they ARE the rules.
So where does that leave us as women?
It leaves us where society has always afforded us…right where we stand and the first step we take having been exposed to those rules will determine how much respect we’ll get or not. It’s no different in the MC community.
We’re guests here and the master of the house has his rules but what women need to understand is that he has rules for the men in that house too and we as women can’t say “those rules don’t apply to us” because we chose to come into this house. We walked in and now we’re in they’re house and we should follow the rules and honor them if we want to stay in that house.
But y’know what…
When I’m in the bathroom I’m looking in the cabinets to see what’s up with you. I’m looking at you and how you move in your house and I wonder if that creaky door has been creaking for how long? Do you keep your house clean or messy? Is the landscaping outside beautiful but the house inside a pig sty?
I take what I see and I absorb it and move accordingly. ’cause you keep your house messy doesn’t mean I’m gonna come in and mess it up too. ’cause you allow for dirty dishes in your sink doesn’t mean my motorcycle is gonna follow that. We both know where the dishes belong and if you don’t do right, doesn’t mean that I won’t.
Ladies, there’s no laying down on the job when you claim to be a biker. There are protocols that determine whether you are or not and you follow them.
It might be there house but find your place in that house and pretty soon the King of the Castle will be asking where he put those keys….and of course he’ll be asking you for them.
When I look at an old school biker and his ole lady, I see a rose. Roses are difficult to grow, as is a bikers relationship. He is the blossom, the part of the rose that the biker world sees. She is the stem, the part that holds him up.
The blossom should be full, and vibrant. The stem is a big part of this. She keeps him grounded, rooted. Bringing him the nutrients he needs to grow……trust, care, support, strength and love.
The stem often goes unnoticed by those looking at the rose, though it is the life line to the blossom.
So as I look at a biker and his ole lady, I know what she had dealt with and been through. I know how he had depended on her for strength and support. She gives her all to see him excel and be respected, in turn he protects her with all he has.
When the stem is cut, the rose soon dies. This is why a rose has thorns…..to protect the stem, so the blossom can bloom.
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