Monday, June 28, 2010


Six years ago, I met a guy who rode a motorcycle.  It was red.  He was hot.  He was even hotter on a motorcycle...

The fact that I even liked him on it was huge

Several years earlier I had a major fucking catastrophe somewhat bad accident on a dirt bike my Dad had.  He got a pair of them for us to ride around the property on ( I grew up on 5 acres in the middle of a big city, with a surrounding 10 acres to 'explore' because our neighbors didn't care).  I had just had my first (out of five) knee surgeries, so I was  on crutches for 8 miserable weeks during my first year of college, holy shit the campus is big, why the hell do I live on the third floor completely non weight bearing, restricted activity for a while. 

It was a Friday.  I had my appointment with Dr. Racca.  He gave me the go ahead for all activity.  I go to my Friday classes, and head to my parents house before work.  My Dad begins to teach me how to start and stop and such.... I finally can go 10 feet with out stalling out sorta get the hang of it, and we decide to be more adventurous.  We go down to the arroyo, which is basically a ditch to carry water.  Except we live in New Mexico, so the only time ours got full was when there was a flash flood.  The water had carved out a path so we followed it.  At one point it turned sharply, and the dirt bike and I parted ways. 

(not the actual arroyo of near death... but just to give you non-New Mexico folks a visual)
I flew up about 15 feet my Dad guesses, and had the wind knocked out of me.  I had on all the safety gear, so besides being scared shitless and breathless, I was fine.  Not even a scratch, no blood, nothing.

I dust off, get back on, and we start heading home.  I take a shower, 2 aspirin (it's important later...), and get ready for work.  I worked as a front desk clerk all through collage, at a hotel that was right near my parents house. About half way through work, my left shoulder started bugging me, so I took more aspirin.   Thirty minuets before I was supposed to get off, I could hardly move it, so I called my Mom
to come pick me up.  I knew there was no way that I could drive my old standard truck home.  She came up, with just her purse, and in her house shoes.  She was going to take me home, and then have my Dad take me to my dorm room which was on the other side of town once he got back from wherever he was.  In that 30 minuets, things went from fine to bad.  I got in the car, and told her that she had to take me to the ER.  She wanted to run home, and grab her cell phone, and for whatever reason, I grabbed her arm, and said "No Mom, now".  We drove to the closest one, and by the time we got there, I could barely move.  They had to get a male nurse to lift me out of the car.

As my Mom was filling out the admit paperwork, they had me sitting in a wheelchair at the end of a row of chairs.  There was a Dad with his child on his lap, who didn't feel good.  From this point on, I don't remember much, so I'll put in italics what I've been told.  I fainted, and he put his arm out across my chest to prevent me from falling out forward.  My Mom started pounding on the plastic window trying to get someones attention.  They came and got me.  I woke up to them rubbing my sternum really hard as they were wheeling me back to the rooms.  I was lifted onto the bed, and they began taking vitals.  I didn't pass out again (yet), but all I remember is being stripped down, and realizing it, and then trying to cover my tattoo that I had recently gotten on my hip.  Mom saw what I was trying to do, and just patted me and said, "We won't tell your Father".  I couldn't reach it, because I had oxygen and an IV tube.  They put a gown over me.  I sat up, but started feeling like I was going to throw up.  The went to go get me a bucket, and I was out again. 

When I woke up again, I had an IV in one arm putting fluid in, one in the other arm putting blood in, and one in my ankle for them to take blood.  They were asking my Mom if I had a will, and told her that she needed to get my Dad and any other relatives and possibly a priest or bishop.  Because of the aspirin I had taken, I bled internally 'a bit faster'.  This really did save my life, because I likely would have taken 2 more before bed (that whole 'take two aspirin and call me in the morning' thought process), where I would have died in my sleep from blood loss.

My little spill on the dirt bike almost cost me my life.  I ended get up 2 units of blood transfused, with a ruptured spleen, internal bleeding, and an 8 day hospital stay.  

After that I wouldn't get on the back of the dirt bike with my anyone.  Not even my Dad.  I couldn't even stand to hear it being started up. 

But, as this story began.... I met a guy.  3 years later.  With a motorcycle.  My Dad said that he knew as soon as I rode up on the back of Travis' bike, that I was going ot marry him. 

When I look back a the brief time we dated, his red motorcycle weaves in and out of the memories.  Our first real date.  Going down to the race track, and having someone steal his helmet.  The long treck around Albuquerque, along the base of the mountains.  The beautiful Sunday in August when we rode up to the top of Sandia Crest and realizing to late that a riding jacked disguises a ring box very well!  I was so surprised he did it there, because we had never been there before together, but he knew it was my favorite spot. 

His red motorcycle was stolen about a week before we got married, and ended up in Mexico 18 months later.  We got the call to see if we wanted to buy it back before it went to auction.  We had missed that bike, but had moved on, both in our lives, and to the midwest.

For the last 5 years, when the winter fades away, and the spring days begin, one of us still mentions what a good day for a ride it would be.  We have been known to call or text each other if we are driving, "found a good road to ride on".  That red bike will forever be ingrained in 'the story of us'. 

So, in "Travis Notes" ( kinda like Cliff's Notes):

Six years ago I fell in love with a guy that had a motorcycle... One day we rode to the top of a big mountain, and he proposed.... tonight, that guy has a motorcycle once again... all is well with the world!

Travis on it as the guy is signing the title over to us

On the highway headed home.



  1. What a sweet story--well, except for the almost dying part! It shows that you can really love someone when you're willing to take the risk and get back on the bike. (My story isn't quite as romantic...I was a vegetarian for 10 years...then the cute guy at the bar told me that he was the only son of a Montana rancher and would eventually inherit the family ranch...I ate a hamburger with him a few weeks later, and married him the following year).

  2. One of my bucket list items is to learn how to ride a motorcycle. Blame it on my Dad - he had had one (a Victory or a Triumph?) long before I was born but gave it up after one of his buddies had a pretty bad accident.

    Have fun!

  3. Oh what a sweet story! And I love that your dad just knew that you were gong to marry him!