Motorcycle Madness

by Sue Schuerr

It was a very hot and humid day in Chicagoland when we hoped on our motorcycle making our way toward Wisconsin. We loved the beautiful scenery, but missed talking to each other having misplaced our communication device. We stopped for a delicious fish fry dinner just over the Illinois border and were surprised to run into a dear friend.

After dinner and visiting with Rosanne, Larry secured my new helmet on me, and got on his bike. I tapped him on the right shoulder and told him my plan. He took off on the gravel road kicking up rocks as he made his way to Rt 12. It was an hour ride back to our home in Chicagoland, so Larry turned on his radio and was deep in thought. When he got home, he stood up which was my cue to get off. “Yikes, Where’s Sue”? he thought. “Did she fall off of the bike?” “Was she abducted by aliens?” But what he didn’t realize was that I had never got on the bike. What I said while touching his back was, “I’ll get on the motorcycle on the other side.” That was my stronger leg.

Seeing him take off, I yelled and laughed, “Larry, I’m not on the bike.” “Honey, I’m not on the bike.” But he never heard me. All my belongings were in the trunk of the bike including my telephone and wallet. Surely, he would return quickly, I thought, as I walked back and forth along Rt. 12 by the gas station. I was quite the spectacle being just under 5 feet with this humungous new black helmet on my head.                          Many stopping for gas, and offered to let me use their phone.  I made 11 calls for Larry from various kind hearted strangers. I couldn’t get the new helmet off and sweat was dripping down my forehead. But finally, a young man was able to help me get it off.  Freedom! I went back to the restaurant and Rosanne was so surprised to see me holding my helmet. “What happened?” she said. When she heard the story and realized I was OK, she roared with laughter. “How could he forget his wife?” she said.  By night fall, I was sitting in his truck and not on the back of his motorcycle. It was another life with Larry day.