I remember a crazy motorbike ride....

Actually, I remember more than one. But this one happens in San Francisco, which makes it cooler!

It was time for a trip. I wanted to go to Europe, but I had blown all my money on French fashion magazines and extravagant parties, so I settled for buying a Greyhound bus ticket and heading south to San Francisco. My friend, I'll call her Shavonne, had invited me to come stay with her for a few weeks, said she'd show me the town.

It's a long, slow ride from Vancouver to San Francisco on a bus, but I'm good on buses. I had great chats with my seat mate, I made friends with the driver, I tried to do yo-yo tricks at every chance to stretch our legs....I was on an adventure! Oh boy!

Shavonne picked me up from the bus depot and we headed straight out to party. I don't remember what bar we went to, but we drank and drank well into the night. We met some of her friends there. One tall, black, and handsome friend started talking about his sportbike. "Oh, I love motorbikes!"

"I drive fast."

"Oh, I love to go fast!!" The ploddingly slow bus trip was mere hours behind me. The thought of speeding on a race bike sounded great!

Before I knew what was happening, I was on the back of this handsome stranger's bike. I remember having a fleeting thought that maybe we shouldn't be going so fast after drinking for such a long time, but the force of the wind as he accelerated blew it out of my mind.

It was late, so there wasn't much traffic...and that was a good thing, because he didn't stop. For anything. Not for red lights, not for other vehicles, not for pedestrians...nothing! He just drove like James Bond was chasing us, and I held on like a beautiful young spy.

I was not afraid. I was exhilarated. He was a very good driver, and there wasn't a scratch on the bike, so I knew he wasn't going to dump us as he leaned us into corner after corner. We finally arrived at his place to meet up with Shavonne and the others. I was in San Francisco! I had just gone on the fastest ride of my life in the middle of the city!! I hadn't even unpacked yet!!! I was on an adventure, oh boy!

I look back on this story, and I am amazed at the stupid risks I was so willing to take. I didn't want to die, I wasn't suicidal...but this wasn't the first time I happily put my life so completely into someone else's hands. The trust involved is staggering. Did I really think I was invincible, or did I still, deep down, believe that there was a God that loved me?