Tag Archives: Riding

Why I Ride… By Porsche T.

Why I Ride... Written By Porsche T.

I ride for the freedom and fresh air. I love the rush of adrenaline that comes from high speeds and nice leans into turns. The feeling you get when your body molds into your machine and you connect with the road is almost indescribable. It’s the closest we come to physically flying. This was the feeling that I received after my first turn of the throttle, and I was hooked.

As I’ve grown into a mature rider, I’ve come to appreciate the sorority of women who ride. The fearlessness we exhibit bonds us across color lines. No matter where you go, you can always recognize a sister who rides. You speak the language of speed and wind. These relationships help to fuel my passion for speed and camaraderie. It’s this bond that I treasure most.

To any woman whose ever given a thought to riding a motorcycle, I encourage you to move outside of your comfort zone and learn to take flight.

Why I Ride… Sexicana

Why I Ride... SexicanaMy mother has been riding motorcycles since 1998, and I never really cared for it. She joined a motorcycle club in Connecticut called True Riders. They were extremely nice and loving towards me and any family members they met.

I started to hang around and ride on the back of the bikes of whom I was the closest to in her club, including on the back of my moms bike. I was happy just going to events and riding on the back here and there.

I was diagnosed with Lupus back in 2007 and became extremely sick. It got so bad that I couldn’t walk due to the excessive pain I endured. I remember thinking, theres no cure, I can die, but I haven’t lived yet. I mean so many thoughts ran through my head, and then a light bulb went off. I am going to learn how to ride! Whenever I get the opportunity and I am not in pain I am going to ride.

I began to take lessons, got my license and then we formed our own Bike Club called “Peaches & Cream MC”.

It’s been a struggle. Nobody will ever understand my struggles. When I am out riding, I feel like i am fighting my illness and winning. I feel superior and inspired to continue to do the things normal people are scared to do.

“Why Do I Ride” I ride because I never know when I might not be able to, I ride because there are times my body allows me to, I ride because I can encourage others by showing my determination and strengths, I ride because it is therapy and keeps me sane, I ride because I never know who God is going to introduce me to so that He may bless them, I ride because I want to. I can go on and on, but I ride not because people are watching, I don’t ride to be glorified, I don’t ride to be cool or noticed, I ride cause I want to and when I can. I am a fighter!!!

People are quick to make comments because people don’t ride as often as they can, they don’t ride as far as they can, they don’t ride as hard as they do. Tell me you have an illness with no cure, tell me your illness cripples you at times, tell me the type of pain you endure as you are leaned over riding on two wheels in the hot sun. Tell me you can ride with so many obstacles in your way. Tell me you can get back on after being struck by a car on the highway and seeing your life flash before your eyes….

Don’t worry what others think or feel, if you’re going to push yourself. Do it because its whats in your heart, because it is your passion. Really stop and think about “Why Do You Ride.” It’s a dangerous sport, in which people are dying constantly. If You are going to put your life at risk, ask yourself WHY and make sure you stand behind your WHY!!! God Bless and remember You can do ALL things Through CHRIST which Strengthens you!!!! #GodBless

Why I Ride… All Ova

Why I Ride

Initially when I began writing this piece, I got deep with it. I got into the pivotal moments throughout my life that led me to my journey on two wheels. And although the stories were deep and touching, the reality is, I ride because I am an a$$hole. I love the freedom that comes with the wind in my face, and the middle finger to all those that don’t feel I should be doing it. The more society frowns on something that has no logic behind it, the more I embrace and seek it.

Society does this great job painting this picture of what we should “look like” and how we should carry ourselves. They give us this book of “norms” and tells us, “live your life this way and end up successful and accepted in society”. Problem is most of it lacks logic. And if it lacks logic. I defy it, making me an a$$hole.

I hear men often say a woman needs to know her place. It burns me because I personally believe my place is any where I chose to place myself (within reason and logic). Riding a motorcycle is no different. Motorcycles start and ride without testosterone, so hearing so many males amazed that women ride and ride hard, baffles me. Hearing people say a women can ride a motorcycle, but she will never have male genitalia annoys me. Hell, I have a vagina, have carried a child for 9 months, endured 36.5 hours of labor without an epidural, and suddenly something like getting on a machine is something I can’t do. Whatever….

If there is no moral dilemma or code broken, and it make no sense in its existence, I will challenge it. I challenge it primarily because societal norms typically exclude the ability to advance certain classes of people. Women and minorities have all been held back by societal standards. So I chop away piece by piece at the foundation of any standard that does nothing to empower and instead creates a “faux” glass ceiling.

Early on in life, I had an infatuation with fictional characters. Pinky Tuscadero on Happy Days, Batgirl on Batman, Christie Love on Get Christie Love and Foxy Brown from her many Blacksploitation films. I had an infatuation because these women were opposite of what society dictated women should be, yet empowered and strong. I always wondered why any woman would want to be a Damsel in Distress when there were so many notably strong competent women kicking ass in the world. My studies of African American history as a child revealed other monumental strong and historical women and people of “color”. The accomplishments of Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Angela Davis were so much more intriguing than the June Cleavers and Mrs. Cunningham’s of the world. So why would I ever want to settle for “pin curls and pumps”?

Besides all of what I stated, my parents also taught me that there was nothing I couldn’t do. They instilled in me to never allow my gender or race to block me from getting what I knew I could. So my entire life has been built on taking challenges and winning. That spirit infused with my first experiences riding on the back of a motorcycle created the woman rider I am today.

Although my first encounters on a motorcycle were typical “riding b!tch” to a man, feeding his ego, I soon understood out there were real live Pinky Tuscaderos and Batgirls. They were real women riders that had just about as much passion for riding as men. Suddenly I felt empowered to take on riding.

My first experience riding on my own came after I had returned from an emotional “b!itch” ride to Myrtle Beach the year my father died. His death triggered anger in me. I had anger that no one could stop. I literally had over 30 fights that year, had been arrested numerous times and lived in courthouses fighting Assault charges. I had men and women trying to knock me down to make a rep for themselves because my reputation was “That b!tch is crazy. She straight doesn’t give a f#ck about consequences.”. I had been shot at, a gun place to my head for refusing to back down and sliced with a razor. And no matter I went through, nothing seemed to phase me. Nothing was enough to scare me.

But I saw my mother grew weary. She had lost her husband and was widowed at 45. My then boyfriend scooped me up and took me on a 10 hour ride to Myrtle Beach, and that changed my outlook. When we came back he taught me to ride. I couldn’t afford a bike, being that I was a single parent. So whenever he came around, he let me ride his motorcycle. He was killed the next year and that put a halt on my riding.

I went on through life, living a life that was “acceptable and successful” based on societal standards. I had a 6 figure job, a husband ,a house and luxury autos. We had a great marriage. He didn’t cheat on me, but I did. I wasn’t happy. My life was “vanilla”. He knew I loved motorcycles but assured me that as long as I was his wife, I couldn’t own or ride a motorcycle. So eventually, I asked him for a divorce. I couldn’t live a lie any longer. I craved everything society said was no, tattoos, motorcycles, and traveling the roads.

We separated and I bought my first motorcycle in 2005, a few months after we separated. It was a GSXR 600. Once I got back on the saddle, I felt free. My violent tendencies minimized. I found peace and serenity on the open road, often alone. Singing at the top of my lungs on back roads in the Poconos and most scenic roads Pennsylvania offered. I soon began getting up on a Saturday and riding further and further alone. One Saturday I rode solo, to Myrtle Beach, checked into a little dive hotel and turned back the next day and rode back.

So why do I ride, I ride because I know it pisses folks off, it challenges everything society says I should be, but most importantly it is the “music” that soothes the savage beast in me.

1000 Cuts for Women in an MC

1000 Cuts for Women in an MCI have learned that sometimes being in an MC means death by 1000 cuts. I say this because you do not have the power to prevent those countless cuts from happening. Even the tiniest of things can easily build up to something massive – making one feel as if they are facing death by 1000 paper cuts.

The cuts started early. You’re discouraged and humiliated when first starting to learn to ride in a group. As for myself, I can remember standing on the side of a freeway terrified, cars rushing by, and everyone screaming what a failure I was. Yet, my thoughts were how was I going to kill myself and everyone with me?

Few people give you credit for how scary it actually can be when you are first starting out on a motorcycle. By nature, most women are not in the business of risk taking, especially when it comes to physical challenges. Initially that is a pretty big hump – not only to face but to conquer. To this day I still get anxious riding with others, even though I have gotten comfortable at doing it on my own or with my guy. A paper cut for every ride.

Another dilemma is that the majority of current MC’s have next to no women in them. There are men who are supportive of a woman who is attempting to prospect and fit in, without displaying any interest in them on a sexual level. However, the women who are companions to these men constantly see you as a threat. Of course you must be there only to find some man to be with, particularly their man. Another cut.

It is problematic when men do not take you serious, or for that matter, don’t even listen unless you are screaming. But now they say you are crazy. You learn pretty quick to be a bitch, be ignored, or worse yet, be pushed around. What you are left with is years of pushing yourself to hard because you believed you had something to prove to others. Numerous paper cuts for prospecting.

Now you are going to functions on the set. The men consistently make cracks and tell stories about how their wives/girlfriends don’t understand why they do this thing called motorcycling and give them shit about being in an MC. The men constantly justify their exclusion of their significant others, so they can run around and misbehave with impunity. Yet I take issues with the negative comments. The comments are clearly intended to be a joke they can all identify with, and most of them do as the population is largely male, strait and generally misogynistic. For those of us who are not men, it’s an ever present signal that we’re not considered a part of the brotherhood, that maybe we don’t actually belong like we originally thought we did. Very few of the women have the ability to stick together and maintain a united front for the protection of one another. The competition for male attention, not necessarily sexual, and need for their approval stands in the way of almost any real sisterhood. The heavy drinking easily can make you feel unsafe and put you in harms at events. A paper cut for every event.

You may work extremely hard, such as in in my case, and get into an MC to then find yourself consistently faced with someone in authority patting you on the head and dismissing any argument or concerns you have about things going on around you that are wrong. Dismissive of you as though you were nothing more than a child —something they would not do if you were “one of the boys.”
The cuts still keep coming.

Then there is a problem with your reaction to any given situation and this reaction becomes the focus of concern and not the situation at hand. How many time have I heard, “well yes that was fucked up but your reaction was wrong” for this reason or another. More times than not, once you calm down you may see they were actually correct in regards to your inability to maintain your composure. This leaves you feeling even more self loathing because of the constant feeling of failure in trying to negotiate the land mines if this MC life. When one feels so embattled, wrongly they may lash out in every direction in an ill guided attempt to find relief. Even with the self knowledge that you never set out to mess with someone maliciously is no consolation. The ever present feeling that you can’t get it right is exasperating. The cuts keep coming.

Some of these same men, who are supposedly your brothers, take to talking about The physical attributes of you such as, the way you dress or how much you weigh. This in turn can make a woman not only uncomfortable but lead to self doubt in herself. You are asked to cook and serve food for functions you should be participating in as an equal member of the group, but instead you’ve been placed in the stereotypical role of female duties. The brothers make sexually charged comments about woman around you and expect you to participate or at least behave like this objectification is cool. Others say that you don’t ride enough even though they hardly ride themselves. A thousand cuts for the riding world.

Every time you push to make things better or different, you are guaranteed a patronizing response from some man. If I had a dollar for every time someone suggested that some demographics just aren’t biologically predisposed to being a good club member, I’d be rich. On more than than one occasion, I’ve had people try to engage me in arguments about the importance of diversity only to later claim they “were playing devil’s advocate.” I’ve had people derail diversity discussions to victim blame and try to speak for the minority that they were not a member of. A paper cut for every time you speak up.

Before someone suggest that these patronizing responses are just jerks and not the general feeling, understand that is not the case. I get these responses fairly regularly. From my own club brothers. From people who know me. From prominent members of the community. From people who should know better. The cuts are deeper when they are people you hold to higher regard, in large part because they are so unexpected you have no way to anticipate who, when or where you will hear these comments.

Cuts, the deep and painful ones, that I have received I can’t even feel safe writing about here – because they’re either too personal or I fear the consequences…

When ever I talk about this, someone always tells me I’m just looking for things to get angry about. Downplaying my pain. As though my feelings are invalid. Perhaps they don’t understand that that was one of many things that happened that day or that week or that month or for the duration of my MC time. That you can’t detach and view these things in isolation. That no matter how tough you get, how thick skinned you are, paper cuts still hurt. I’m not the only one in bandaids trying to stanch the bleeding and focus on being in an MC because it truly is the thing that I love. I am terrified of the day that it becomes terminal. Death by paper cuts.

Take a Deep Breath, Calm Down

Take a deep breath, calm downWritten by: Contro-versial

Every time I get on (my bike) I pause for a few seconds, there is an instant rush of adrenaline that makes my hands shake a little. Its not fear- its joy and excitement. Its respect for the machine. My dad told me “its not if you go down, it’s when you go down” I already went down, got that covered. I am still here.

When I am on my bike, I don’t give a crap about the everyday problems and issues I have to deal with.  I am free.

I don’t have to talk to anyone, except a few hand signals and an occasional head nod.  It charges my battery, it frees my mind, and it lets me be me for a few hours. Riding is my church, it is my faith and I practice it faithfully.

After a few miles my hands stop shaking, my breathing becomes normal. So focused that I can smell the colors of the road and hear the sun set or rise. That is the moment I am free. It’s just me in that Helmet, and that is perfectly fine. I have a deep love for this life; I will honor and defend protocol/traditions because its is the foundation of the house we live in. Knowledge and intelligence do not discriminate, but ignorance does. Know and understand your lane, than ride the hell out of it.