My husband got enthused about motor cycles when he was in his early thirties. He had a friend who rode, and I know that he encouraged him. He bought a motor cycle and rode for a while, but never on the freeway. He would go through the canyons to the beach. One day I threw caution to the wind and went with him, sitting on the back. It was an incredible feeling of freedom. Complete anonymity under the helmet, at one with nature as we breezed through the air. Thank God we got home in one piece.

It was late 60s, early 70s, and several men I dated after my divorce rode bikes. They all had scars in the same place on the same leg from turning the bike over and getting burned by the exhaust. It usually wasn't long after that they stopped.