and that ended my racing days and I switched to cruisers
after that, taking a chance on an 1100 Honda cruiser. I found
it quite comfortable and I once again felt the freedom of the
open road—this time on my cruiser.
about ten motorcycles from the Sentinels MC. They took me
under their wing and treated me like family. The friendships
I made within that club are still going strong, although now I
am with a different club, the Smokin’ Guns).
In the early 1990’s I met and married a wonderful man
who was not a rider. I was excited to show him what he was
missing. So I hopped onto the back of my motorcycle and
he climbed on behind me, since he was an avid bicyclist, I
took him to familiar territory around Squaw Pass. When we
stopped and I asked him what he thought of the motorcycle
and the freedom, the smell of the pines, and the adrenaline
of the ride, however, in spite of his having ridden down
Squaw Pass on a bicycle at sixty miles per hour with thin
tires and tiny brakes, he said he felt safer on four wheels and
I never was able to get him interested in and excited about
motorcycles. At one point, I even sold my bike, because I
loved him so much and spending time with him was more
important. I would tell him every summer how much I missed
riding but it was my own choice to sell the bike.
Thankfully, the sexism found in some clubs has never been
a part of either of these two clubs and women are treated as
equal and respected members. Both clubs are very familyoriented and everyone is encouraged to feel like a family as
well—just a bigger family of loving brothers and sisters that
also share a love of the open road and the roar of an engine
beneath the seat. I am proud to be a member of this fine
Motorcycle Club.
He always thought of me first and knew how much I loved
and missed having a bike, so, since he no longer needed his
work truck, he traded it for a 2005 C-50 Suzuki Boulevard and
gave it to me. I was in tears; he had given back something
that I loved almost as much as him, motorcycling.
About a year after Rick passed away, I was headed to his
family reunion in Grand Junction, traveling west on I-70 in the
Stapleton area through rush hour traffic. Traffic was stopped,
then started moving again. I looked in my rear view mirror
and noticed a Cadillac about a quarter of a mile behind me.
The driver, talking on a mobile phone and clearly not paying
attention to traffic hit me at fifty-five miles per hour while I
had just started from a complete stop and lifted my feet off
of the pavement. Still on the bike, I was pushed/slid under
the car in front of me. I lay there for a second, then decided
I had better get out, because I was not sure whether or not
she had pushed me into the path of other traffic or not. I got
out from under my bike, took off my helmet, and looked at
the memorial on the tank. I think my angel of a husband must
have been watching out for me. My adrenaline was pumping
as I walked over to the woman driving the Cadillac and asked
if she had called the police. She was still on the phone so
that was seemed a reasonable assumption, but no. She said
that she thought someone driving by would call. (Seriously?!)
Although I was still shaking, I ended up calling the police
myself. The ambulance arrived and I was told that because
my new bike tires didn’t pop when she hit me, and the front
of her car went up over the tire and pushed the bike’s back
fender into me instead. This is what kept me from flying back
onto her hood. She did get a ticket and I was lucky but my
injuries included my tail bone, my wrist, and more back pain.
The greatest loss, however, was that she totally destroyed
the last gift my loving husband gave me, my motorcycle. The
insurance company even refused to give me the tank with
the memorial on it, I felt like I had lost him all over again.
Re-entering the world of motorcycles, I began investigating
motorcycle clubs. I first considered the Sentinels MC,
because my daughter and son-in-law are police officers. I
liked to hang around with them, they are some wonderful
people. Unfortunately Rick was too sick to participate before
he died young in 2010 at the age of 55. After he died, at
least I had the consolation of knowing I had finally inspired
his change of mind. Since he had told me, “If I get rid of this
cancer, I think I am going to get a trike.” I swore from that day
forward I was never giving up my love of the motorcycle that
he had returned to me with his love. This is why I later had
a memorial to Rick painted onto the tank of my bike. At his
funeral, I was brought to tears when I heard the thunder of
Once I received the insurance settlement and went shopping
for a new bike. I had especially liked the Boulevard because
it handled so well that I could do the same maneuvers as
I had on a racing bike. I went to Thunder Mountain and a
Harley caught my eye. Heck, all my years of riding and I had
never owned a Harley so I decided to give it a try. The 2005
Sportster 883 felt like a ten-speed bicycle and was a huge
mistake. I was accustomed to big bikes, but this one was
very light weight. I ended up selling it to my daughter (who
loves it) and purchased a 2005 Road King instead. That was
more like it! All things considered, I am not one who likes a
full-dress bike with too much stuff; I am happy enough with
my dresser with just bags and a windshield.
At that time, I was a Driver’s Education teacher, which,
curiously, also taught me to be more aware of bikes on the
road. As a motorcycle rider, of course it is vital to keep 100%
of your attention on the road at all times and this is a must;
anything else is an accident. And we do not only have to
pay attention to our own driving to remain safe, but also
everyone else’s too. Watching other vehicles’ tires more than
the bodies of the cars, is another thing I learned because
tires are the first clue to what the drive r is actually going to
do. Being a Driver’s Education teacher is probably also why
I have had only one accident and always strive to be a safe
rider.
In 2008 we were hit with horrible news: my loving husband
of almost twenty years (Rick Vincenzetti) was diagnosed with
small-cell aggressive lung cancer. I was devastated. Taking
care of him the last year was tough, knowing that I was going
to lose him in the end to this horrible disease.
www.thunderroadscolorado.com
August 2015
Thunder Roads Magazine® Colorado 25