Besides the big O.... (24)

Slipping the clutch as I change up to 5th, rolling on the speed and heading up the N4 from Sligo to Donegal. Passed memories of Police controlled crossing and authorised roads make me hold my breath a little as I cross the border to Northern Ireland. Then slowing and pulling into the curb, I remove my helmet, undo the leather jacket, slip the leather trousers off and put them all into my luggage. Keeping my boots on I slip my skirt up around my waist, throw my leg over the Harley, feel the bite as the clutch and gears pull me forward, looking over my shoulder I leave the curb and make my way onto the road. Slipping the clutch and going through the gears, building the speed, slowly but purposely until I fly over the smooth tarmac in a dance as one my bike, with the wind, the fields and trees, my hair blowing behind me, my face tingling with the speed; for here I can not be prosecuted for driving at speed, for not wearing a helmet, for not having the correct gear; for hear I am a Replublican, an Irish woman, a Biker. Here I am in a country with no way of prosecuting me for breaking their driving regulations - here I am without constraint, here I am free to make my own choices. So here they look as I fly by, me and my Harley Davidson, they see the Republican registration and they know what I am doing; what they do in my country.

Yep, if I come off I'm dead, beats an old folks home, or watching TV for a life, those hours, days, nights of been one with my bike, no regrets, just my choice. Before I get a trashing - for others I ride good and safe, I never put anyone else at risk just me.