Ride a Harley

When I was a kid, David King, who taught me Sunday School (and had a big crush on my eldest sister) rode a motor bike and he used to let me sit on it outside church. When I was a teenager, my parents and I used to visit friends who owned a farm in Biala (or was the farm called Biala?) outside of Gunning. Their son Grant was a year or so older than me—he and I were page boy and flower girl at his aunt’s wedding when I was five—and Grant used to dink me on his bike around their farm, dodging granite boulders and dead sheep. I haven’t been on a motor bike since. I keep promising myself I’ll take one of those Harley rides you can pay for, but I never have. I’d really like to do the overnight weekend ride (but you sort of need someone else to do that with), but even the twenty minute job around Sydney would be cool. Baby, we were born to run!