Headgear.

I love motorcycles.

This surprises people.

Mainly since I don't wear leather chaps, have a Mike Tyson tattoo, chainsmoke cigars, and my name isn't Beersheba.

I don't feel this stereotype is fair, because if you've ridden a motorcycle at any time, you know how amazing it is, no matter who you are, where you're from, what you did, as long as you love motorcycles. (For those of you old schoolers singing the Backstreet Boys song I tossed into this paragraph, I appreciate you.)

There are a few things that you will do in your love for motorcycles, whether or not it's a good idea.

You ride in the cold. This idea is preposterous. Seriously. Sometimes it's a gorgeous day. A crisp 50 degrees, and just nice enough for a light jacket. But if you're going 70 mph down the interstate on a bike in the same weather, you begin to wonder if you're a stunt double for Jack in Titanic, as it feels as though you've met an icy grave. There is nothing more attractive than pulling up to a car at a stop light with your runny nose draining out the bottom of your helmet. You see the driver and passengers in said vehicle do a double take as they realize that's not your hair glistening in the sunlight, it's your snot. Riding in cold weather is the only time one will consider urinating on themselves in order to feel warmth. We don't though....usually.

Motorcyclists do the "two-fingered wave" where, upon passing the other motorcyclist, will put their left hand beside the bike and stick out the index finger and middle finger, as if to say, "Sup." It's a precious time in a rider's life, realizing they're in this big VIP club, something that cannot be taken away from you as long as you're on that blessed two-wheeler. This happened to me for the first time summer of 2013 TODAY, and let me tell you what my face looked like when another rider passed me and gave me "The Wave":

Yeah, glad they couldn't see me either.

Night rides. Oh man, this one is key. Riding in the day time? Awesome. Riding at night? It feels like you are literally flying off the ground. I love it.

One problem.

Everything looks like an animal.

Running at you.

Riding on a motorcycle at night is the ONLY time in your WHOLE life where a mailbox looks like a herd (pack, school? Ugh...) of deer and where a "No Passing Zone" sign appears to be the only existing wild moose in the state of Illinois. I am so unbelievably paranoid about hitting a creature on my bike. I swerve more than I ride in a straight line at night, but I continue it nonetheless. I must say though, when you ride over a hill and your headlight catches the eyeballs of a not-so-distant animal, the Jaws theme track will inevitably play in your head as well as cause you to pray to your Creator for mercy.

Entertainment.

Few and far between when you're on your bike.

Guess what cars have?

Radio.

Guess what my bike doesn't have?

Yep.

So I am forced to entertain myself. Inside my helmet. All alone.

Do you know what it's like to be stuck with no one but your own thoughts on a 30-minute trip? You read this blog to be entertained, but when I'm left to my own vices, it becomes a terrifying fight again self-inflicted cabin fever. Helmet fever, if you will.

Sometimes I sing at the top of my lungs. God help the person who realizes I'm rapping Sir-Mix-A-Lot while waving at them as they pass, or the person who doesn't realize I just quoted the entire Anchorman movie while waiting my turn at a 4-way stop.

I wear a full coverage helmet just so that other people don't realize that I'm laughing so hard at my own jokes that tears are streaming down my face.

I would never want anyone to know what goes on in my helmet. It's too much for any other person to handle.

If people really knew what I was like in my helmet, I would be mortified. That's why I am the way that I am when I have it on, because I know that no one else knows what's happening inside of it, therefore I can't be judged for it.

A lot of times, it's that way for me without the helmet, only it's my thought life. I would be mortified for people to know what goes on in there, and most of the time, I think the things that I do in there for the soul purpose that no one else knows what's being said or thought there.

If someone lifted up the helmet of your thoughts, what would they think? Would they still have respect for you? Would they still think you were a good person?

Our actions speak louder than our words, but our thoughts are the seeds of our actions.

May we stray from the thoughts that lead us down a negative or uncomfortable path. It's definitely worth it in the end!

Get out of my dreams....get into my car.

My car is many things to me.

My heart and soul? That's obvious.

But more than that.

Lately it has been a changing room (much to the relief of some bored truckers....not my problem), a dinner table (I am assured to find at least two pounds of shredded lettuce that's dropped off of McChickens and 3-18 Starbucks coffee cups upon vacuuming the Bonne of it's contents), a bed (yes, I look homeless sometimes, sleeping in a stray grocery store parking lot as customers check to make sure I'm not an infant, even though I'm crying softly and in the fetal position), a library (nursing textbooks are too heavy to carry, so since I bought them all together I have adjusted them under the seats as I would on a bookshelf, and pull them out PRN (that's nursing for 'as needed')), and most importantly, a sound booth. Sometimes I just need to sing to destress. And no, I do not get embarrassed when someone catches me belting it out as I drive....I make eye contact with them, and continue singing until it's weird for the both of us. I also yell. If someone or something is frustrating me....I yell. To myself. Very good for stress. Also good for people to not cut the schizophrenic girl in the right hand lane off because they don't want her to follow them to Wal-Mart and murder them slowly in front of their entire family.

My car has lasted me many years and many miles.

In fact, the other day, it, yet again, got me out of a tough situation.

I was hours from my college of nursing, but I had to be at class shortly.

I am not a speeder.

Every time I speed, I get pulled over.

Cops don't like me.

I have cried, joked around, been honest and told them why I was getting pulled over and deserved justice, but no. The only time I've gotten out of a ticket was when I had an asthma attack. Heretofor, I've had an asthma attack the past two times I've been pulled over....and it's been "Warning City" for this gal. Aww yeah....respiratory failure equals cop compassion up in here.

But this time, I made an exception.

I sped. Oh did I speed.

I felt like a rebel. I even rolled the window down and let the wind whip through my hair.

I rolled it back up quickly. Turns out wind whipping through your hair hurts your face.

In order to make sure I didn't get pulled over, I consistently followed someone faster than me. I would watch carefully for....you guessed it, brake lights. The moment that happened, I knew I was just seconds away from a po-po spotting.

I was right.

Brake lights=brilliance.

I can't believe I'm so smart.

Towards the end of my trip, I realized I had compromised my well-known grandma-like driving skills. Sure, I made it on time, but I'm not a speeder. I don't like reckless drivers! I have road rage! I would've yelled at me any other day!

How often do I live my life that way though? I'm doing something that I know isn't right, and I'm just watching for those brake lights to make sure that the people that really count, the people that keep me in check, won't see what I'm doing? Or better yet, I excuse the act for a silly reason? Maybe it's something ongoing, maybe it was the way I spoke to someone or responded in a situation and refuse to right it/fix it, maybe it's whatever just popped into your head!

It's called being a hypocrite, everyone does it, but this is a real kicker for Christians. This is our downfall. This is what others judge us on. Knowing what's right and doing it, knowing what's wrong and not.