She calls it Sal. Bing does. It is her motorcycle. Don't ask me what kind it is or how much power it has or whatnot. It is purple. It is huge. It's name is Sal and Sal scares the shit out of me.
Bing has wanted a motorcycle her whole life. She finally bought one on her 40th birthday. I wasn't in the picture yet as her partner, but I was her friend and I told her that I hated it.
I still hate it.
It lives in our backyard shed in the winter and as soon as all worries of frost are over, Bing hauls that thing out to the garage where it sits until the snow flies again.
Okay. Bing looks good on it. There. I said it. I admitted it. I like to see her swing her leg over the side and her foot gain purchase on the other side, bobbing a little. She snaps her helmet and leers playfully at me and well, yeah, she's very bad ass. Very cool.
I would be just fine if she just sat in the driveway on it.
But, no. She has to go places on it. That is what scares the frack out of me. She has this helmet on to protect her. Nothing else. If she goes flying off that bike, there is nothing to protect her. Can't they make some body armor for her to wear?
She doesn't even like wearing the helmet. Says that she loves the freedom she feels when she rides. I always forget to call it her helmet. I call it her hat. She patiently corrects me every time. Winks at me, smiles a seductive smile and asks me if I want a ride, baby.
NO. I do not want a ride. You couldn't pay me to get on that thing. This disappoints her. She swears that once I try it, I will beg her to take me on rides all the time.
I'm half afraid that she is right, so I have never taken her up on it.
Bing knows that Liv is NEVER to have a ride, we have discussed this. Even when Liv is 40 and Bing is some saggy faced 87 year old rider, she is not to let Liv near Sal or any other motorcycle.
Sal came out of the shed yesterday. A very special Mother's Day gift to me, I suppose. I frowned. Bing laughed. Told me to calm down.
She started it up, revved it a little on purpose just to bug me. Leered at me, asked me if I thought she looked hot.
I replied that no, she just looked like a fool. (Secretly, I did think she looked kind of hot, but wild horses could not have dragged that fact out of me.) She threw back her head and laughed. Winked at me and took off down the driveway, off to play Born To Be Wild.
I closed my eyes for a second and mentally put a big safe bubble around her.
I looked down at Liv. "Don't ever ride a motorcycle, Liv. Promise me."
Liv paused. "Well," she said, "I'll try not to, okay?"
No try. Do.
We walked back into the house and even though I left the church years ago, I said a short prayer to Saint Jude to keep Sal intact and Bing safe.
I hate that frackin bike.