When I was a finishing up my freshman year in college, Kris and I were just beginning to see each other. My best friend couldn't get over the fact that I was seeing someone who rode a motorcycle. One day, whilst we were waiting for some sort of a lunch with an advisor or something, one of our favorite professors stopped to chat with us in the hall. According to my best friend, I'm apparently I'm going to end up being this woman when I grow up, and to test this hypothesis, she if our professor had ever dated anyone who rode a motorcycle.
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| This is Kris' bike. Damn sexy, eh? |
Our professor's eyes lit up and she smiled brightly before she responded, "Oh yes." When we asked her what happened to the relationship, she rolled her eyes and said, "Well, helmets are horrible for your hair, so I broke up with him," and that was that. She is the sort of lady who looks like she stepped out of a Banana Republic catalog on a daily basis. She's runs on a daily basis, but if you looked at her, it is impossible to imagine what she looks like in a ponytail (her hair is always, always, ALWAYS perfect), so it is completely reasonable that she broke up with the boy because of helmet hair.
After spending a cumulative 5 hours on the back of a motorcycle this weekend, I must say, I sort of wish I had paid better attention to that part and made Kris get a car ages ago. He could live on a bike if there were a way to get paid for it, but I feel like I'm going to die every time I get on it, and not due to the fact that it's so dangerous.
Nope, I just hate how limiting it is to your appearance.
First of all, there is the hair thing. My absolute favorite hairstyle in the whole world is a ballerina bun (now that I know about sock buns, my world has been rocked). But if you try to put a ballerina bun in a helmet, the result is disastrous. The same goes for a twist, a braid, a nice looking pony, anything, due to the fact that when you take the helmet off and put it on a few times, your hairdo literally falls apart. Not only that, but if you leave any of it loose, you end up with a head full of windblown knots that are absolutely killer. The only thing worse than a head full of knots? A head full of knots that have been interwoven with your necklace or dangly earrings. Add that to the fact that things like concealer and blush/bronzer tend to end up wiped off by the inside of your helmet, and your head's a mess.
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| Me: Pre-Ride. Note how nice the hair is! |
And it gets worse. You have to, obviously, wear pants on a motorcycle. I've tried to wear a skirt on the back of a bike and it has NOT worked out well (like, flashing the entire parking lot not well). And, if you're going to be on road trip, you should probably wear boots. Yep, even in May when all the cool kids are running around in dressy sandals and heels, you're in knee high black leather boots. And skinny jeans, because you have to have pants that will fit inside the boots, now don't you? Oh! And you'll need your leather jacket. Yep, even in the summer. There's nothing like taking a two hour ride in too-skinny skinny jeans, only to arrive at your destination (where everyone else is in shorts and skirts and sandals) and walk around with your leather boots and jacket. And helmet. Because you can't leave a two hundred dollar helmet with the bike and it's pathetic locks, so you need to carry that too. And your backpack, because you can't carry a purse and you're gonna want a water bottle, gum, a hairbrush, etc...It does wonders for your sense of adventure upon arrival, lemme tell you.
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| Post-ride hair |
And if you can get past all of that, you're still left sitting on the back of bike, going 80 MPH for two hours or so. That in and of itself is excruciating. Even if it's a perfectly windless day (because the Colorado plains are NEVER windy...), you're still getting buffered by 80 MPH winds. It's like the air is trying to rip your clothes off your body WITH your skin and it's trying not just to take off your helmet, but your whole head. After half an hour your sit bones are ready to pop through your butt cheeks. After an hour, your shoulders ache from the weight of the backpack and the pain is shooting down yours arms, into your fingers. By the time you get to your destination, all of you aches and you just want to book yourself a 90 minute massage. It's miserable.
In spite of all that, I still love going for rides, I really do. There's not much that can beat the feeling of flying on a warm summer evening.
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