"For the record, I do have genitals. They're functional and aesthetically pleasing."

When I took ballet the studio schedule generally followed the school year, so when school let out, there was a 6 week summer session, and all of August off. Which meant my Tuesdays went from babysit, work, class, babysit, to babysit, work, babysit. The girls were taking gymnastics on Tuesday in 'O6 so I was the gym mom for that month. There was a group of other moms that chatted and had coffee, but they didn't know me, and I wasn't actually a mom so we mostly stopped at hi. There was a dad in a suit with a computer that looked fairly busy, so I left him be, and another mom that spent the entire time yelling things like; "STICK IT." and "STRAIGHTEN YOUR KNEE." across the large room at her kid. I avoided her. She looked stressed. My only obligation was to look up when a small child would yell "AUNTIE MAYA! WATCH ME!" and say "Good job!!" in response. So I decided to re-read the One for the Money series, super funny, doesn't require concentration, able to keep my attention. In one of them the replacement for her perpetually being blown up vehicle was a motorcycle. Everyone she gave a ride to enjoyed it very much and there was always a comment about the effect it had on their 'down theres'. Curious, I called my motorcycle repair shop owner/booty call/future husband to question him about this phenomenon. His reply was "I'm a dude. Maybe it's different for chicks. Let's go on a ride and find out."

He then explained there is something called Street Vibes in Reno where motorcyclists from all over gather and hang out and look at vendors at the end of September. He was going with his family, staying the weekend in a hotel. Did I want to come?

It was a big fucking deal. Family acknowledgement and time being spent with them. The first time I'd be hanging out with him and his brother, one of my best friends, together. My first long motorcycle ride. I was excited. A couple weeks later I called his brother to tell him I'd been boning J for awhile, and I'd be joining them at Street Vibes, was he ok with it? I was so nervous. He said it was fine, I think, I don't exactly remember.

Let's discuss his bike. Deep dark blue very large Honda. His seat looked very comfortable. The bitch seat was more of a leather decorative cover for the back fender. I couldn't fit one ass cheek on it and I weighed 110 back then. It was also nice and slopey. Toward the back, you know to slide the hell off the thing? I was freaking out, picturing one turn flinging me off the side of the mountain effortlessly. Thankfully he got a bag meant to be tied on right there so I felt a little more secure that I would arrive at our destination.

After an awful morning involving my ex I get to work at noon on Friday. I leave early and drive up to J's house. I don't remember the circumstances, problems with a motorcycle he was working on or something, but we didn't end up leaving until 10:30pm. His family left earlier that day or the day before and was waiting for us there. I am wearing borrowed leather chaps and jacket, long johns, jeans, shirt, sweatshirt, 2 pairs of gloves and boots. Around midnight we're going over the mountains. It wasn't cold when we left, but late September in the mountains at midnight on a motorcycle? A whole new ball of wax. We stop 3 times to put on more clothes and attempt to thaw. We stop at In N Out in Carson city and I'm eternally grateful they have warm water in their water faucet because my hands were so numb I sincerely couldn't unbutton my pants. I was in there for 10 minutes at least, J thought I snuck out the window and was making a run for it.

I have never been so cold in my life. Such a pathetic sentence to sum up what it felt like on the back of that bike. I was too cold to cry. I hummed because otherwise I thought I might die, and tried to remember to hang on. My hands were wrapped around J's waist and I was hiding behind him, I was sheltered from the worst of it, but his hands up there on the handle bars were right there in front. There's a place, under the gas tank that dips in a bit where you can put your hands and get them warmed by the motor. He did that a couple times, switching them off. But then I realized most of the time, instead of putting them by the engine he was rubbing my hands, wrapped firmly around him. Trying to warm them up.

Like a ton of bricks. If that bag hadn't been behind me I would have slid right off. Because, right there at 12:30 am, dying of hypothermia on the back of a motorcycle surrounded by mountains, trees, and suicidal deer I had the realization of all realizations.

I was In Love with him. Head over heels. Every cliche in the book. Fuck.

I kept it to myself for quite awhile longer. Had a wonderful weekend drinking vodka, watching movies and walking around Reno with his family. We held hands and everything. The ride back was in the afternoon and was gloriously perfect. But nothing like the wonder of the night we drove up.

My facebook feed has a few discussions about Street Vibes this weekend, and I have to smile as it takes me back to 6 years ago to a girl, a guy, a bike and an epiphany, freezing in the mountains.

The book lied, my 'down theres' were never affected while riding the motorcycle. Maybe is was the total shit seat though.