About Rebecca Eckler
Since becoming pregnant with her daughter Rowan, Canadian journalist and author Rebecca Eckler has penned three hilarious books, including the best-selling Knocked Up. Catch Rebecca’s weekly unique perspective on motherhood and single parenthood.
For my boyfriend’s fortieth birthday I bought him a motorcycle. He used to drive one years ago, and since turning the big 4-0 is an important milestone, I wanted to make his birthday special. He said it was the “best birthday present” he ever got.
But, as a mother, or at least I think it’s because I’m a mother, I didn’t really want to buy him this gift. First, we all know that motorcycles are dangerous. We just know that, although driving anything these days seems just as dangerous.
Second, I wouldn’t buy a motorcycle for my daughter – ever. (That’s not to say that when she's older, she may never come home on the back of some tattooed dude's motorcycle – isn't that every mother's worst nightmare?) And, since he’s a father too, I worried on behalf of his children, who, quite frankly, just thought the bike was really cool.
So while I don’t like the idea of him driving a motorcycle, because I love him and don’t want him dead, I did like the idea that he was very, very happy with his gift. And, as I keep telling myself, he’s an adult. If that’s what he wants for his birthday, well, I’m not his mother.
But, speaking of mothers, I had the chance to witness firsthand how mothers never stop worrying. We went out for lunch with his mother the day after he got his motorcycle and he showed her some photos he had taken of it. His mother said it was a nice bike and immediately went into, “I can’t think about it. You better be careful. Did you get a helmet? I can’t think about it.”
Well, of course he got a helmet. His mother asked me if I would ever get on the back of the bike and I was like, “no way!”
But, maybe in the future, the far future, once he’s ridden the bike for over a year, I may allow him to take me on a ride…around the block. I’m a mother. I don’t want to end up dead.
Yes, I’m the one who bought him a motorcycle (it’s like the equivalent of your seven-year-old begging for a dog for their birthday, but when you’re 40) but I couldn’t get out of my mother mode either.
“You better be careful,” I keep telling him, every time he goes for a ride.
“Don’t worry, I am careful.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the other...”
“Drivers,” he says, finishing my sentence for me.
Exactly. I’m worried about the other drivers. So, if you’re driving and you see a green motorcycle on the streets, please be very, very careful. That’s my baby on the bike.
Would you ever buy your husband a motorcycle? Would you allow your kids to ride one, even when they’re adults? Share!
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