BIKER CHICK!




BY LISA KELLY


I look at her lovingly, as I have almost every week for the past four years.
She is beautiful, long, slender, nearly perfect. I've often considered purging
myself of her altogether, thinking how inappropriate she is to my lifestyle.

I don't need her any more. She isn't really me. But then I straddle her for the
first time in over a year. I open up the petcock, ignition on, engine switch to run.
Two flicks on the throttle, pull out the choke, build up to compression stroke and
kick! And 80 cubic inches of highly modified Harley Davidson Shovel Head comes
to life beneath me. The roar of shear raw power fills the garage as I do something
that hasn't occurred in years. I pull out the clutch, ease her into gear and head
out into the open road. She sings to me, her loud old song. We've been together
18 years, three wives, 65,000 miles. Germany, Holland, France, England, Austria,
Italy, Spain, east coast, west coast. The memories of our time together flood my
eyes with tears as I see them before me the faces of my old brothers of the Nomads.

So very much time has passed since that long country ride yesterday. I have really
tried hard to purge the demons of my past, my old macho denial ways. And in so
doing I very nearly turned my back on over twenty years of my life. Why? Out of
some foolish fear that somehow I would again become the man I used to be? Out of
guilt/shame of my past deeds? But no, the hate I once felt for myself is finally gone
for good now. I have gone from being a brother to a sister. But my soul is blended
into that big piece of steel. I am a biker of whatever gender I choose to be that
day. I am whole again. I am home. Lisa Kelly -- Nomad no longer, Nomad still.