“I’m ready for anything!” My wife called out as she gunned her throttle and booted her kickstand up. She lifted her helmet visor and stared at me like a hawk ready for attack.

I fumbled with my helmet, wiggled the key into the ignition, and unlocked the steering.

“Let’s go, damn it. Reatta Pass is waiting.”

My engine came alive and the click into gear signaled that I was ready.

I heard a boom, roar, and a screech of tires and she was gone. Post-menopausal bikers don’t suffer from hot flashes. They have power surges.

By Kevin Draper

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