Great Transport Views

My mother hates the fact that I have a motorcycle. Well, more to the point, she hates the fact that I ride my motorcycle. In the course of any given day, she threatens at least three times to hire a skip and throw my motorcycle in it. So it was a big surprise when she asked if she could borrow it.

"Why would you want to borrow my motorcycle?" I asked.

"Well, I took this online test and it said I needed to try to experience life," she said very seriously.

"Let me see this online test," I said. So we sat down and looked at it together, my mother looking very serious and worried about the whole thing.

The quiz was fairly simple, just a typical online test. It was the sort of thing you'd see in the normal course of surfing the web. It had questions like, "Do you like to take risks?" and "Are you more comfortable staying at home and reading a book, or going out for a night on the town?" Of course it was meant for someone much younger than my mother, and probably it was created by someone much younger than my mother OR myself. I could see how it might make my mother feel boring and unadventurous.

"I don't think you should take this test too seriously," I told my mother. But I could tell she was unconvinced. "You know that these tests are made up by bored thirteen year olds in math class, right?"

"I want to ride your motorcycle. I want to do something exciting." I could tell my mother was going to be stubborn about this.

"All right, I'll take you for a ride. But you aren't going to like it," I sighed as I gave in.

I could tell we were in for trouble when the helmet I gave my mother didn't fit correctly. She fussed and worried over it until she finally got it adjusted to her satisfaction. Finally she settled in behind me, and nervously gripped my waist as the motorcycle started rolling forward slowly.

"Just hold on and don't sway from side to side too much," I told her, as I slowly steered around the corner. She was trembling hard enough to shake the motorcycle as I sped up to a reasonable running speed, and she clung to me tightly as we went around the next corner. By the time I pulled up in front of our flat again, she was pale as a ghost, and I had to help her off the motorcycle because her knees were weak from fear.

"So, how did you like your adventure?" I asked her, trying not to grin.

"Maybe I'll just go inside and read for a little while," my mother replied shakily. "Adventure isn't all it's cracked up to be."