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| Image from Gijs Coolen on UnSplash |
Several times during my life I have encountered key experiences which involved a motorcycle.
The first was in Cleveland, Ohio and involved my second wife. At the time I was a very novice transvestite or cross dresser out for one of my first ventures in public. Since my wife and I had some time to waste, we decided to find a venue to have a drink in during the afternoon. Before the mixer began. as we sat at the bar a loud motorcycle rolled up almost completely in front of the door. His "bike" was impossible to miss.
As it turned out, he and my wife began talking. It was the first time I really had ever noticed her flirting with another man when I had been around. Naturally, this time, dressed the way I was head to toe as a woman, I couldn't do anything about it anyhow. The worst part to me was, she seemed to enjoy watching my reaction. For the first time in my life, I was competing with another woman for the attention of the motorcycle guy. Her conversation went to the point when and if he offered her a ride and I wondered if she was going to accept. After keeping me in limbo for what seemed like forever, he did and she turned him down and stayed with her husband/girlfriend. She had made her point and moved on as I was left to wonder what could have happened had she left with him. Since she has long since passed away, I will never know.
The second experience came years later in a suburb of nearby Dayton, Ohio. In a certain venue I had become a regular in, I had been accepted into a small group of rather diverse acquaintances. One lesbian and four or five straight folks. One of them was a big bear of guy who rode a classic motorcycle and ran the lumber section of a nearby large home improvement store. Another of the "regulars" was an exotic beautiful hair dresser who danced on the side. It turned out within a fairly short amount of time, she decided to marry the big guy. I thought at the time, she wasn't the marrying type and I was right. It turned out their marriage lasted approximately one week and it was over. To make matters worse, everyone in the group except for me seemed to not care about his feelings. Slowly but surely, we began to chat and formed a small bond.
As we did, the rest of the group as well as some others in the venue began to notice. I just felt he was hurt and needed a shoulder to lean on and it almost worked out to taking a ride on the back of his motorcycle. Which would have been my first ever. I would have/should have pursued it more except back in those days I was wearing a wig and all I could imagine was my wig flying off when I was riding. The ride never came and shortly there after, he was transferred out of town to another store. Leaving me with another "what if" moment. He was one of the few men I had ever formed a bond with and I missed him.
Whatever the case, he left and life moved on as it always does. The only other encounter with a cycle man came at a highway waffle place when I suddenly encountered a real life outlaw biker type eating his breakfast. He paid me no real attention as I tried not to notice him and nothing happened.
To this day, this trans girl has never even been on a motorcycle at all. It's OK though, I have enough other habits to keep me occupied.
