Each of us had socks in mind. Or a fresh crossword puzzle book. The typical birthday presents for Grandma, you know.
But no. Not this year.
This year, she rode out of the garage on that—a full-sized, rumbling, chrome-covered motorcycle with a bow taped to the handlebar and a bank-robber’s smile.
“If not now, when?” I asked myself. As though she had been born in leather, she said, revving it.
She had apparently been accumulating money for two years. Her bingo winnings and pieces of her Social Security checks were hidden away. didn’t tell anyone. Nothing, not even Grandpa (may he rest in peace—he was afraid of this beast, let alone bicycles).
Her ride out of the garage that day was more than just a birthday present; it was a statement. Grandma had changed from being a kind, submissive woman who knitted and baked all day. She was a completely different person—a woman who was still full of life and not content to let her advancing years define her.
Initially, the room fell silent. Sitting beside me, my aunt dropped her fork in the middle of her bite. Always the skeptic, my cousin Tommy almost choked on his drink. As for me? All I could do was stare in amazement. Now Grandma, the woman who could recite every line of every classic movie and who made the best apple pie in town, was riding a motorcycle.
“Are you, Grandma?” Are you serious? When I eventually got around to asking, I was still blinking at her, appearing far too at ease on that bike, with her helmet under her arm.
With a hint of mischievous gleam in her eyes, she smiled. “Why not?” Little one, you only got one life. While you can, you might as well enjoy it.
I looked to my mother, anticipating that she would be furious or distressed. Rather, she had her eyes wide and her hands covering her lips. Her voice was a mixture of wonder and worry as she questioned, “Where did you even learn to ride?”
Grandma shrugged, her smile on her face. “My decision to purchase it wasn’t made overnight. visited the community center to teach a class. During the past few months, I’ve been practicing in the backcountry. Nothing too unusual. simply getting used to managing it.
The woods are where you’re riding? Tommy questioned uneasily. Your age is eighty-three, Grandma! That’s something you do when you’re less than eighty years old.
Throughout the kitchen, Grandma’s laughter could be heard. Yes, I am still here. Sitting about waiting for things to happen is the worst thing you can do in lifetime. At age 83, life doesn’t stop. In fact, it’s only getting started.
A flurry of inquiries, skepticism, and a great deal of hilarity characterized the following several hours. Grandma told us about the freedom she experienced while driving, the wind blowing through her hair (although behind the helmet), and how she had always wanted to ride a motorcycle but had never had the opportunity. Since she didn’t want to put pressure on her grandfather to drive close to a motorbike shop after witnessing his dismay at the thought, she kept her dreams to herself.
After his death, however, she felt that the moment had arrived. Put an end to waiting. No more being reticent.
Softly, she remarked, “I took care of everyone else for so long.” “I thought I should do something for myself now.”
At the end of the day, it didn’t matter if we were happy for her or afraid for her. Her choice was decided. Furthermore, it was more motivating to see her in that leather jacket, still so animated and laughing, than we could have ever imagined.
She rode the motorcycle all over town, the neighborhood park, and sometimes even down to the beach for the next few weeks. Her bingo buddies were brimming with tales of the “cool grandma” who was seen roaring down the street and waving at the younger crowd as if she were in her prime.
But then the twist appeared.
A month or so later, we received the call. When a car attempted to pass her too closely, Grandma was involved in a minor but unimportant fender mishap. Thank heavens she was unharmed. Only a slight discomfort and a bruise on her arm. It was enough to frighten us all, though.
I felt sick to my stomach when I drove to her place that night. What if she’d thought this was excessive? Could it be that she was more hurt than she admitted?
But as I entered the living room, I discovered her reading a book and enjoying a cup of tea in her favorite chair. With a tranquil, almost placid expression, she gazed up.
“Well,” she smiled, “I guess I’m lucky, kiddo.” “That might have been more severe.”
I let out a sigh of relief and sat down next to her. “Grandma, you must stop this behavior. Your youth is evaporating.
After setting down her tea, she gave me a serious look that she hadn’t had in weeks. “I understand, dear. Well, you know what? My age isn’t decreasing, which is precisely why I must do this. The goal is to live the life I desire, not to take chances. Why would I want to spend the rest of my life sitting in this chair, waiting for the inevitable?
I felt like a ton of bricks when she said that. Nothing had to do with the motorcycle. She was teaching us all a lesson, and that was the subject. You have too little time to wait for the “right time,” and you are too valuable to let fear control your every action.
“That was correct,” I muttered. “You’re always correct.”
As though aware of the effect her words had on me, Grandma smiled. Kiddo, don’t wait. No matter your age, it makes no difference. Life must be taken by the handlebars and experienced. Additionally, you get back up after falling.
Her remarks consumed my thoughts that night. The motorcycle and the crash seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things. We received more than just a bike from Grandma; it was a lesson on living life to the fullest and without regret.
In the months that followed, I began to make minor adjustments. I took a class that I had been avoiding for years. My time for the things I liked, which I had previously put off, increased. Grandma was right; I was finally living for myself.
Then one day she took me by surprise once more. She invited me along to the neighborhood bike store. A new, more dependable motorcycle with a bit more power was what she had been considering purchasing. “A girl must stay current with the times,” she remarked with a laugh.
Knowing how much more it was than a motorcycle made me smile. She used it as a means of teaching me that we were capable of far more than we realized, regardless of the challenges life presented.
Grandma taught me about taking chances, pursuing your dreams, and not waiting for approval to live that year, and I’ve carried that lesson with me ever since.
It’s not always about the big, spectacular moments in life. Regardless of our age or what others may think, sometimes it’s about the bravery to keep going and the little, bold decisions we make.
For that reason, if you have been putting off doing something for years, stop putting it off. Take the risk. Reach for the handlebars. You will not be sorry.
Give this story to a loved one if it inspired you, and let’s encourage one another to enjoy life to the fullest, regardless of age.
