If you've ever been on the back of a bike, you know that you'll need a toothpick once the day's done.
Once upon a time, I was stranded on the side of the highway. No brakes, the car wasn't going anywhere. Not a town in sight, not a single bar of cell service. I was, needless to say, terrified. It was getting late in the afternoon and rush hour doesn't exactly exist along old roads.
After a few hours of puttering around, trying to fix the car, I heard it. A low hum that was a familiar noise to me, a motorcycle enthusiast. At first the bike passed by and I went back to work, but not five minutes later the noise returned.
The driver had gone on ahead to get a second helmet. One that, without a word, he passed to me when he pulled up alongside my car.
I was hesitant to take it at first. I'm a woman, the biker was a man, and you hear about these things on the news. I took the helmet, trying to abruptly explain my situation, but he shrugged it off and said that he'd take me for a spin into town. Seeing no other options in sight, I returned his shrug, secured the helmet, and then got on the back of his bike.
The moment we took off it was like nothing bad had ever happened to me. My car breaking down was destiny. I was fated to be on the back of this bike. I was the happiest I had ever been in my life and even now, I can still feel the wind whipping the ends of my hair about. Shout out to the chill bikers in southern Ontario for giving a girl a ride when she was at her limit and in need.
Unfortunately, I didn't anticipate a ride and didn't bring my toothpicks. I spent an hour picking the bugs out of my teeth once my car was in the shop because of how wide I was smiling.
Photo by Denis De Mesmaeker.