Fiona might believe she’s ready to attempt a Milk Run, but the real question was, am I ready for it?

Last Christmas, Santa brought Sleeping Beauty a shiny red Ninja 250, the perfect motorcycle for an enthusiastic beginner to learn on.

And, at first, Fiona was enthusiastic about learning to ride. For about a month, we’d go out and practice; stopping and starting, turning and accelerating, circling her little neighborhood hundreds of times.

A few months later, maybe the novelty had worn off, maybe other interests took the place of riding, who knows? I said from the beginning that Fiona should take learning to ride at her own pace, and while I encouraged her to practice, I never forced the issue, figuring that if and when she felt ready, we’d ride.

Finally, after a great day blasting through mountain passes, carving through perfect turn after perfect turn, and racing along scenic river roads, as if a switch flipped, that day arrived. My passenger had decided it was time to become a driver.

Rain Cloud Follows and Li’l Red, Young Love Is So Cute

I’m not sure who was more nervous as we performed our pre-ride safety checks. Suddenly, I understood with absolute certainty the feeling my Mom and Dad had when, at eighteen years old, I wobbled down the street for the first on my first motorcycle, a 1978 Kawasaki KZ 400.

My First Motorcycle – By Tonka… Err… Kawasaki

At that time, I knew everything. Still do in fact. When I called my friend Keith that morning to tell him about Fiona’s impending maiden voyage and how anxious I was, he put it perfectly. “Of course you’re nervous, you have the burden of knowledge of all that can go wrong, while she doesn’t.” Sometimes knowing everything sucks.

Geared up, I couldn’t stall any longer. We pulled out of the driveway and, instead of turning left into the safety of the little neighborhood, we turned right towards the wilds of the big, bad streets of my adopted home of Southern California.

I led at first, until Sleeping Beauty told me she wanted to to be in front.

Sleeping Beauty and L’il Red took the lead, which was a good thing. That way she’d never see the wildly panicked terror on my face as she pulled into traffic the very first time.

And… she did it, and did it well! Though I was still petrified, I have to admit I felt a certain amount of pride well up. For the first time ever, Fiona and I were actually riding together!

She led the way to the start of Route 39, better known as the Milk Run, stopped at all the lights without problem, never left her turn signal on, and handled L’il Red like she’d been riding for years. I noticed she even waved at other bikes as they passed.

We pulled over for some last minute instructions before carving our way through the San Gabriel Mountains.

“Remember, honey, don’t grab that front brake. Squeeze it gently before the corner, then gradually get back on the throttle as you straighten the bike up.”

“Got it.”

“Try and follow my line through the corners. Set up on the outside, slow down, dive into the apex…”

“OK.”

“If faster traffic comes up behind us, let them pass us in a straightaway.”

“I will.”

“If you think you can’t handle this, pull over right away… and…”

“Quit stalling, let’s go do this!”

And with that, we did.

Watching her ride her bike in my rear view mirror, my nervousness and anxiety gradually dissipated. She was doing it, and doing it well. I never once saw her cross the double yellow, and she stayed right behind me for the entire twenty mile route. I felt comfortable enough to drop back and take a few pictures:

We pulled over, and the smile on her face was electric!

We talked about the ride; what she did right, where she felt uncomfortable and what parts of the road she was comfortable with. I gave her a few little pointers on things to watch out for. At that moment I realized how great it felt to share my so-called ‘Burden of Knowledge.’

On a nice, deserted stretch of road, I went on ahead to set up for a photo op. She fired up L’il Red and came racing towards me, all 250 cc’s of pure, unbridled Ninja fury!

She pulled over to wait for me, and learned one of the first lessons, a very important one, a lesson that every beginning motorcyclist (that isn’t a liar) has learned: The Natural Resting Position Of A Motorcycle Is On Its Side.

Fiona had parked on a slight incline, and L’il Red decided it was nap time. Fortunately, Sleeping Beauty jumped off before it was too late, and managed to escape injury. L’il Red wasn’t as lucky.

Shaken but OK, Fiona learned the second lesson that all new motorcyclists learn: When You Fall Off Your Horse, Or Your Horse Falls On You, Get Right Back In The Saddle.

Without admitting how I know, let’s just say that part of my Burden of Knowledge is I know what it feels like to drop a motorcycle, and I understand what a confidence shaker that can be. To her credit, my girl climbed right back on L’il Red, and wanted to finish the ride.

Her confidence may have been stirred, but it wasn’t shaken.

At the bottom of the Milk Run, we pulled over again, making sure the ground was level. I didn’t know what her mind set would be, but I quickly figured it out.

Heading back through town, an old, grizzled Harley rider pulled up alongside us. He didn’t wave at me (typical) but looked at Fiona, smiled and gave her the biggest thumbs up possible.

We made it home from our first ride ever, a little scratched up but basically OK. Fiona was so happy and excited, she couldn’t stop smiling.

She had one more lesson to learn that day, If You Break It, You Fix It. She didn’t want to leave L’il Red with a broken turn signal (because she wanted to go riding again the next day) so we drove down to the dealership and picked up a new turn signal, which she insisted on installing herself.

With everything repaired and ready to ride another day, Fiona and I held up a hearty toast to what could only be described as the Best Day Ever.