We've all made those credit card purchases. The ones you don't realize how much you've spent until the bill comes and makes it a reality. Hits you like a slap in the face.
I ride Harleys. We sold them when I came to prison, but I have rode them since I was 19 years old. Before I left my last prison I met a man selling his bike. I really wanted the bike. I told you a bit about this before. He was an inmate like myself. When you ride motorcycles, there are times you're standing around admiring the bikes. Everyone takes a turn telling the story behind their scooter. So I was thinking my bike's story would go something like......"I bought my bike from a dude doing time where I did mine. He shot his wife for cheating. He got life--while I got his bike..."
So I made the man an offer and he didn't want to budge on his price. I didn't have the full amount he asked, so I decided to wait.
I explained to Mom why the bike meant so much to me. Sure, I could wait until I get home to buy one. However, I will have been in prison for a decade at my release. Where I was going, opening a shop, and who I was going to spend my life with. Well, all of those plans have changed.
My future plans are now an adventure and will take shape once I'm home. I'm very OK with that, but would love to have a couple things be solid for me once again.
I explained all this to Mom. A few days later she told me about the lady who cuts her hair. She's also a biker and had upgraded her bike and still had the other one in the garage. The story behind my scooter now goes like this.....
Mom knew how much a bike meant to me. She knows the freedom you feel with the wind in your hair. A feeling you can only experience on two wheels. Mom negotiated the deal, covered the difference for me, and now holds a Harley for her eldest son.
Two things for certain....
I get to come home and be a Dad to my daughter. I get to spend time with her and make up for all the years of her life I missed. I have years ahead of me to walk beside her and be a role model. I've stood patiently on the sidelines of her life thus far. I tell her I'm on the sidelines cheering her on. I'm the loudest fan she's ever had and ever will.
And I get to ride a motorcycle. That shit makes me happy. Nobody can take that away from me. It's mine.
Mom told me on the phone she bought the bike, it was mine. Late that night I was laying in bed looking at the ceiling. I'm not certain what prompted it, but at one point I laughed out loud...."I own a fucking motorcycle!!" It was like the bill finally showed up and I got that slap in the face. I've requested pictures. Seems you all have seen my bike even before I have. It will become even more real then I'm sure.
I'm coming home people. I've got a Harley to ride as soon as I get there. Mom brewed home made wine two years ago and I had her put two bottles to the side. They should be nice and ripe when I get there. I have a funny list of things-to-do. It's so close now I can taste the wine and hear the motorcycle rumble.
(Note from the Mom: He has all the pictures now!)
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