Motorcycle Mama

My wife just bought a Piaggio scooter, and although I’m thrilled that she now has a motorcycle endorsement on her driver's license and has joined the brotherhood of the two wheels, I can’t help but poke fun at her little, tiny bike.

It’s cute, and motorcycles aren’t supposed to be cute! So I kid her and call the scooter “The Hog.” She’s a good sport about it and says as long as I’m not calling HER a hog, she’ll let me live.

Of course she had to accessorize herself, and bought a specialty helmet made by Piaggio to match the color of her scooter. She also did some research online and bought a pair of jeans called “skid pants.” They look just like regular jeans, but they’re made to protect you if you hit the ground and slide for a long distance by incorporating a Kevlar lining. Yes, you read that right; she has bullet-proof pants. This will come in handy if she and the rest of her scooter gang decide to rumble.

I kid her, but I also applaud that she’s taken such a serious interest in learning to ride and being safe. I know that if she has an accident she’ll be well covered and will have a much better chance of survival.

I’m excited that she’s a bike rider now. She’s just not allowed to ride that little thing anywhere near me when I’m on my Kawasaki Vulcan. I don’t care if she gets 65 miles per gallon, I’m not getting laughed out of the Brotherhood after being seen next to that Tonka toy. Ha.

“God, wrap your loving arms around my wife as she braves the traffic and keep her safe! Amen.”