Monday, November 08, 2010

I'm Stacey from Dagenham

The glorious part of living with the Maharishi is that he's full of surprises. He is for all intents and purposes the gift that keeps on giving. Even after nearly twenty three years of marriage, he keeps me guessing.  He does nothing by halves. He lives large. I still stare at him open-mouthed wondering if I actually know him.  Can you really know anyone?  Who was it that said that people marry in order to have a witness to their lives?  This is what I witness: He's been, in his spare time, a carpenter, a letter press man, a photographer, a handgun and shotgun enthusiast, a serious road cyclist, a filmmaker, a cook, a smoker of meats, a barbecue genius, a policeman (we barely dodged that bullet) and now, a biker.  Yes,  a biker. This Ducati rolled into our driveway a week ago, and he has spent the weekend on it, visiting friends in far-flung places, honing his road skills. As a child he road dirt bikes in Calico with his father and brother, and being a perfectionist, enrolled in a Very Serious motorcycle training course before the Big Purchase.  Friends ask with sincere concern "Aren't you worried?" "Does he have enough insurance?" The smile on the face that returns home after each jaunt is enough to convince me that this is A Good Thing.  My husband is a Very Happy Man who smells deliciously of new leather.  I've never been on a motorbike, which is, I know, hard to believe.  I wanted to go on Charlie Runham's bike when I was thirteen, but it never happened.  Yesterday, however, I hopped on the back, strapped my arms around him Bruce Springsteen-style, and he roared up the driveway with such acceleration that I nearly flew off the back, and found myself giggling like Stacey from Dagenham on X Factor.

4 comments:

AQ: said...

I guess I am kinda conservative on this one because I can't finish your sentences without having to relax my muscles and hoping he'll be careful! There is something tremendously romantic and cool about you hopping on the back of that thing... for very short, helmet clad rides!

legend in his own lunchtime said...

My father is 86 and he still rides his bike. Granted, they are getting smaller as he gets older, but he is still the coolest man I know. He's a lucky man to have someone that lets him be what he wants to be.

Mrs L. said...

Dear Stacey,
I want to thank the Maharishi for introducing my husband to all sorts of potentially lethal hobbies that, at very least, take him far from home for hours at a time. So far its been guns and road bikes. Then, Sunday, he pulled up with his new Monster to convince Sig Other to trade in his scooter for a motorcycle so the two of them can go riding together. If that isn't true friendship...
xoxo
Mrs. L.

Anonymous said...

I could tell right away, honey, he was bad to the bone. Bad to the bone. Buh-buh-buh ba-yad! Bad to the bone!

Now, where's that latte?

David

ps - I swear I did nothing to encourage this.

pps - Tell him to get some proper pants.