Sunday was my first organized group ride on my own bike (well…trike) ever. So it was kinda momentous. I think my husband felt like a proud parent sending his child off for the first day of school. He was outside taking pictures for us before we left and escorted us like an honor guard on his solo Springer for the first leg of our journey to the meet up at Desert Wind Harley Davidson. It was also the first leg of his journey to meet some friends for breakfast, but it was fun, nonetheless.
Adding another layer of surrealism was the fact that the route and destination for the ride was almost exactly the same as the one our inner circle of friends took that day I realized I was ready to be on my own wheels again.
And then, of course, was the fact that my girlfriends and I were heading out to ride among roughly 39 witches in the annual Motorcycle Princess Witches Ride.
It was so cool turning into Desert Wind and seeing that pretty much everyone was totally into theme. This, of course, is one big indication that it is, indeed, an all-woman ride. We do enjoy a good excuse to play dress up, and it doesn’t always have to include black leather. Not that there wasn’t any black leather in the crowd! There were some pretty amazing corsets on some of these witches!
After a few door prizes and a lot of hugs and photos, Jennifer, the Motorcycle Princess herself, called out, “Ok, witches: To your brooms! Let’s ride!”
39 bikes/trikes riding together is an impressive sight. Every ride of this size elicits attention. When pedestrians and people in passing cars realize that all of the riders are women, however, you can see the jaws drop and the cameras raise. It truly felt like we were making a statement for all women – one of both independence and unity.
Rising out of the flat desert basin of the valley, the dual columns of bikes rolled up the Beeline Highway to Fountain Hills, then headed west across the back route to Cave Creek. The road along there gently rolls and twists its way to higher elevation, affording ample stretches in which those toward the back of the pack had a prime view of the undulating snake dance performed to the music of 39 thundering Harleys.
When I first moved to the Phoenix area, this was all dry desert ranches. Now the area is filling out with suburban homes and wide green spaces. As always, my brain overlays the memories of changing vistas: turn your head this way to see the lush lawns of the present, and tilt it that way to see the dusty pastures and barbed wire fences of the past.
At our destination, Harold’s Cave Creek Corral, our tables were reserved on the patio. Everyone ordered off the regular menu and paid on individual checks. Kudos to the staff for taking it all in stride, serving promptly, and with minimal confusion. I won the “dollar game.” Everyone who wanted to play put in a dollar and whomever was served last got the pot. Nice! That’s one bet I always seem to have a decent chance of winning. Ha! It worked out to be a free lunch of shrimp tacos!
Other than that, there was no set program; but then, a program would have interfered with the many conversations. It was obvious that these ladies ride together frequently. I learned that there were at least four very active groups represented here: Motorcycle Princess, Windsisters of AZ, Lita of Scottsdale… and I haven’t been able to remember the fourth. (Please comment if you can help me out on that detail!) They loosely coordinate their events so that everyone has an opportunity to participate in as many rides as possible.
As we all were getting up to leave, the gal sitting behind me looked at me and said, “You were riding behind me on the way up. I recognize the smile!” I guess it’s true; I just can’t help but smile when I’m riding – and I hope to be smiling a lot more with these energetic, independent, self-confident women!
