The summer morning  was of a bearable heat for the northern lower peninsula of Michigan even if I was going to be wearing long sleeves and thick pants, the usual sweltering humid heat had been pushed back from last nights light chill. At least thats what I kept telling myself as I pulled on knee high riding boots over my “snag and burn proof” reinforced riding pants so thick that even with only shorts on under my riding pants it felt like I was walking in cumbersome snow pants. I began to falter in my resolve when I put my thick kevlar chest protector over a long sleeved dirt bike jersey. All the gear made me feel like I was preparing for battle, layers and layers of protective armor. But even in my layers of gear I was beginning to doubt my intelligence at riding that day, my hands were shaking and my brain was buzzing on full power with nerves, how could I feel so protected and so exposed at the same time. Nerves were hammering on my mind like the sound of my cousins kick starting the engines of their dirt bikes into a overlapping rumble. I could feel the start of sweat condensing on my skin, sticky, and warm like a film that couldn't be removed by the moisture wicking fabric of my shirt. I tried to tell myself that the sweat came from the heat but my mind kept saying, “You're afraid.” My mind knew where that fear was from, last fall didn't seem that far away. Ha I internally snorted at myself, fall, It was because of last fall that I was afraid, of falling.
I kept remembering with foreboding fear the last time I went riding, it was late autumn and I was fifteen years old. The trails were almost completely sand and riding a dirt bike in sand was very difficult for me, every time the group hit a spot of deep sand my feet went off the pegs and I began to walk my bike like I was little again and learning how to ride a pedal bike without training wheels. Without my feet near the rear brake my hand kept reaching for the front brake. I was told again and again by my dads friend Jerry not to use my front brake but I just kept doing it, lurching in the sand every time I stopped and forming a pile of sand in front of my tire pushed up from my stop. My tactic of riding the front brake worked for most of the ride, until it didnt. We were riding on the road, almost back to the cabin, zipping along the side of the road in a fluid line. We were coming up on a intersection when I caught a glimpse of my cousin putting his legs up in the air in some kind of stretch/trick. My hand went straight for the hand break and I could feel the bike lurch unnaturally under me, My mind spewed out an exclamation along the lines of a wordless Cr*p! as the bike began to fall to the left. I know it was left because there are still marks on the road where I fell, tattoos made by me on the hard road. I don't remember how I did it just that I threw myself out of the way of the bike so I didn't get stuck under it. It was one of those instinctive moments where your body takes control and just does whatever it needs to. When everything stopped moving the only thing I remember thinking is, I need to Get up right now or mom is going to panic. I got right up at that thought feeling dazed and filled with adrenaline that made the world come into sharp relief like wiping out had cleared away a fog. I had to drive the dirt bike back to the cabin but it was so slow and stressful and such a short distance that my closest memory was of a great mistake. It was really no wonder I was scared.
I tried to build up my confidence as I finished preparing for the ride, gathering gloves, goggles, mirror, and my helmet. I was clunking around the cement floor of the pole barn in my knee high riding boots, the hard plastic structure supporting my legs and the thin toe of steel clacking on the floor reminding me of tap dancing when I was really little. My eyes kept flickering nervously over at my bike sitting in the garage with the ambient light illuminating its blue plastic. I’ve always liked the color of my bike, blue is a calm color, cool and gentle but also strong. It is also different from all of my cousins bikes because its a yamaha, yamaha uses the color blue, And none of my cousins bikes are yamahas. Their bikes are made by honda so they are a very bright red, violent and bold just like their style of riding. I couldn't help but thinking  that the color difference was fitting since I was also individualized by being the only girl riding a dirtbike , my sister rode a four wheeler. My bike and I were different and bold but I wasn't sure that I was strong willed enough ride boldly.
My cousins were sitting on their bikes revving the engines of their bikes impatiently in the dirt driveway as I pulled on and strapped my helmet. Then I got on my own bike, pulled on my purple gloves, started the engine, and nudged the kickstand up with my booted foot. I rolled my bike out with exaggerated slowness to where my cousins were waiting, gently feeling the bikes speed and acceleration, hoping it would all come back to me even though it had been over four months.
Its just like riding a bike I thought with a giggle, a bike with a gas tank and the power of 125cc’s. I taped down the shifter into first gear letting my body remember how quickly I was supposed release the clutch in order to not pull forward in a lurch. My right hand felt the acceleration as my fingers lightly felt the front break my dad had modified for me to be smaller. I silently sent out a prayer as my dad winded his bike fluidly around me and my cousins to the front of our progression of off road vehicles.
“Ready?” My dad yells over the noise of impatient engines. We all give a thumbs up, not bothering to try and yell over the noise.
As our train of bikes pulled out into the shoulder of a dirt road and I took up my place near the back of our group I tried to get a sense for the bike. My hand was easy on the throttle threw the first few miles and I kept up quite nicely, everyone was stretching right now like warming up for a jog. I knew I was being overly cautious and slow as we moved into the more narrow two tracks so I shifted from first into second gear cautiously and I surprised myself by being prepared for the false shift that happens during that transition. As we continued riding thru the trees I found my mind was able to wander and observe the nature around me as our group wound around curves with artful precision. Slowly I could feel my body readjusting itself on the bike to feel comfortable, going from second gear up into third and not feeling the intimidation of the power, instead I felt exhilarated feeling the rumbling purr of my bike and smelling the fresh scents of nature around me. I zipped quickly threw the banked turns that in previous years I would have cringed from, I didn't worry about falling into the turn I just trusted myself and the speed of my bike to carry me through. When the group reached a wider trail that had a light dusting of loose sand and gravel I was worried that I wouldn't be able to keep up my confidence or balance. But then in front of me I saw my ten year old family friend Liam, ‘the closest thing I have to a brother’, stand up on his bike and bend his knees to hug the bike with his legs. as I watched this kid whos riding abilities I very much respect let his bike move independently below him and I remembered my dad saying that doing that stops you from over correcting. Trusting the idea of my young friend I leaned forward on the bike, putting my weight on the footpegs, and I stood up. Almost instantly I could feel a difference, the bike wobbled less and I couldn't feel the shifting of sand and gravel beneath the wheels.
The ride probably took about an hour and a half, average for a lunch ride, but it seemed like no time at all to me. I wanted to keep going to keep feeling that power and freedom. I finally understood all the times my cousins were so upset to be done even after riding for a whole day. As we finaly, or inevitably, pulled into the parking lot of our favorite little family restaurant, Shirleys in the woods, I realised that my fear over this ride was unimportant. I realised that I didn't need to let fear rule my life because I am stronger than it and I can beat it. My confidence and pride in myself was only supported by the comments and compliments of my family.
“Were you right behind me?” Liam Green said.
“Now thats my girl, good job.” My dad said, I may be his baby girl but he will never miss the chance to brag about be doing all the things a son would do.
“Wow.” My cousin Liam Fahey, yes there are two Liams in our group and yes it does get confusing, said. I chose to think that Liam was shocked by my skill, not speechless from thirst.
“Whatever.” My sister Megan said but I never really put points on her opinion.
There were more spaced compliments and clasps on the shoulder from my uncle and other cousins I was very proud of myself and I found the compliments very humbling to me because I respected the opinions of these people and appreciated that they cared enough to compliment me. I was surrounded by love and support, it was the gruff breed but it was comforting none the less.
That day looking back was a big victory for me not just because I improved at riding but because I overcame that fear that was physically making me uncomfortable. I usually become so nervous about something that I end up thinking that I’m going to be sick. This event showed me that I don't have to live this way I can let go of the fear instead of letting it overwhelm me. I look at the people around me and I see some that don't care at all and others who care to the point of a stress complex, now when I look at me I see both I care about school and I am relaxed about other things but not careless. Before this I couldn't separate the two sides and it scared me but this helped and is still helping me to find the balance of my personality. I am me, I am two sides of the same coin, smart and chill, silly and focused, tomboy and girly girl. I may still not know exactly who I am but this event helped me to put one more piece of the puzzle in place.