Wind in My Hair
I grew up on a motorcycle,
My dad’s choice of vehicle,
I would rock the front seat when I was little,
On the gas tank, I straddled with no trouble.
My dad put me in charge of the lights,
Signaling if we were going left or right,
The helmet law wasn’t a thing then,
Interestingly, nothing bad had ever happened.
Wind in my hair,
No one cared
About any safety precautions,
Our lives depended on our own decisions.
My inner child misses that timeline,
When I was able to fly,
While balancing my body on the metal seat,
In the cold, in the rain, and in the heat.
Even when he had too much to drink,
My spirit never had a chance to sink,
How could I?
Like a superhero, I got to fly!
Eventually, I got bigger,
I didn’t fit on the tank any longer,
I was demoted to sit behind him,
My flying privilege was ending.
At the time, I didn’t seem to care much,
Looking back, now I think that completely sucked!
Then, came along the helmet regulation,
Ruined all of my childhood fun.
In 100-degree heat,
I sat with the stupid helmet on the back seat,
The two straps dangled along two sides of my head,
I recall feeling I’d rather be dead.
Sometimes my dad would take off his,
When we cruised in the area with no police,
But generally, we pretended to comply to avoid the ticket,
The motorcycle fun officially ended!
This was just one example,
Of what I call childhood miracles,
Just wind in my hair,
Just me, my daddy, and some fresh air!
--December 9, 2023
