Everybody was anticipating socks. Or a brand-new crossword book, perhaps. You know, Grandma’s typical birthday presents.
No, however. This year, no.
The full-sized, chrome-streaked, roaring Harley she rode out of the garage on this year had a bow pinned to the handlebar, and she had a smile on her face like she had just stolen a bank.
“I wondered when, if not now?” Revving it as if she had been born in leather, she said.
It seems that she had been accumulating funds for two years. Tucked aside slivers of her bingo winnings and Social Security payments. kept it a secret. Not Grandpa (may he rest in peace), who was frightened of bicycles in general, much less this beast.
It was a declaration as well as a birthday present when we watched her ride out of the garage that day. The kind, submissive woman who knitted and baked all day was no longer Grandma. She was a completely different person—a woman who was still full of life and vitality despite her advancing years.
At first, the room fell silent. Mid-bite, my aunt, who was seated beside me, dropped her fork. Tommy, my cousin, who is often skeptical, almost choked on his drink. Me, too? I was unable to do anything but look. Grandma was a motorbike rider today, the woman who could memorize every line of every classic movie and who cooked the best apple pie in town.
“Are you, Grandma? Are you kidding me? Still blinking at the sight of her, helmet under her arm, and appearing way too at ease on that bike, I finally got around to asking.
Her eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as she grinned. Why not? Child, you only have one life to live. You might as well take advantage of it.
I thought my mother would be furious or disturbed when I looked at her. Rather, her eyes were huge and she had her hands over her mouth. In a voice that was both astonished and worried, she questioned, “Where did you even learn to ride?”
With a shrug, Grandma continued to smile. I didn’t simply decide to buy it one morning. attended a course at the community center. I’ve spent the past few months honing my skills in the backcountry. Nothing too extreme. simply becoming used to dealing with it.
“You’re… riding in the forest?” Tommy asked astonishedly. You are 83 years old, Grandma! You do it when you’re not in your eighties, or something.
The kitchen reverberated with Grandma’s laughter. I’m still here, am I not? Sitting about and waiting for things to happen is the worst thing you can do. Age 83 is not the end of life. It’s only getting started, if anything.
The following several hours were filled with a lot of laughter, inquiries, and incredulity. Grandma told us about the freedom she experienced when driving, the wind beneath her helmet, and how she had always wanted to try riding a motorcycle but was never given the opportunity. She didn’t want to force her ambitions on her grandfather, who had gone white at the thought of even going close to a motorbike shop, so she kept them to herself.
Now, however, with his death, she felt that the moment had arrived. Stop waiting. No more reluctance.
“I took care of everyone else for so many years,” she remarked quietly. “I thought it was time for me to take action.”
Ultimately, it made little difference whether we were happy for her or afraid for her. She had already decided. And it was more motivating than we could have ever imagined seeing her in that leather jacket, still laughing and full of enthusiasm.
She rode that motorcycle everywhere for the following two weeks, including the town, the neighborhood park, and sometimes even the beach. Stories about the “cool grandma” who was seen driving down the road and waving at the younger crowd as if she were in her prime were common among her bingo buddies.
Then the twist appeared.
The call came about a month later. Grandma had been in a little collision with another car when they attempted to pass her too closely. It was nothing major. Thank God, she was not injured. She only had a minor discomfort and a bruise on her arm. However, it was enough to frighten us all.
That night, I drove to her place with a knot in my gut. What if this had been too much for her? What if her pain was more than she admitted?
Upon entering the living room, however, I discovered her reading a book and enjoying a cup of tea in her favorite chair. Her expression was tranquil and calm as she gazed up.
“Well, I guess I’m lucky, kiddo,” she grinned. “It could have been more serious.”
I sighed with relief as I took a seat next to her. “Grandma, this cannot continue. Your age isn’t decreasing.
For the first time in weeks, her gaze was serious as she set down her tea and met my eyes. “I understand, my dear. However, you know what? Exactly because I’m not getting any younger, I must do this. It’s about living the life I desire, not about taking chances. What’s the point if I sit in this chair all day waiting for the inevitable to happen?
What she said struck me like a ton of bricks. The motorbike was not the issue. It had to do with what she was teaching us all. Too little time exists to wait for the “right time,” and too valuable to allow fear to control your every action.
“You were correct,” I responded quietly. “You have always been correct.”
Grandma grinned, as though she understood how her words affected me. “Don’t wait, youngster. How old you are is irrelevant. You need to seize life by the reins and give it a try. You get back up when you fall.
I couldn’t quit thinking about what she said that night. The collision and the motorcycle felt so little in the grand scheme of things. Grandma had given us more than just a bike; it was a lesson on living life to the fullest and without regret.
I began making little adjustments during the ensuing months. I finally enrolled in the class I had been avoiding for years. I found more time for the things I enjoyed doing, which I had previously put off until “later.” At last, like Grandma, I was living for myself.
Then one day she caught me off guard once more. I was invited to accompany her to the nearby bike shop. She had been considering purchasing a new motorcycle with a bit more power and greater dependability. “A girl needs to stay current,” she remarked with a laugh.
Knowing how much more than a motorcycle it was made me smile. She used it to show me that we were capable of much more than we realized, regardless of what life threw at us.
I’ve carried with me the lesson Grandma taught me that year: to take chances, to pursue your aspirations, to live without waiting for approval.
There are times when life isn’t all about the spectacular events. Sometimes it comes down to the little bold decisions we make and the bravery to endure, regardless of our age or the opinions of others.
Therefore, if you’ve been putting off doing something for years, make the decision to do it now. Jump. Hold on to the handlebars. It won’t be a regret.
Share this tale with a loved one if it inspired you, and let’s remind each other that no matter our age, we should always live life to the fullest.