I’m in tears as I write this: I’m selling my Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle. I know it’s old and not that special. But please allow me to explain . . .
My dad is a badass. No joke. He’s a Vietnam vet who’s as tough as nails. He always had a Harley. I went for rides on the back of Dad’s bike as a kid. As one of his three girls, it was a special time. Just Dad and me on the bike. Growing up, I knew I would own a bike. I do. And now I’m selling it.
I rode my red and black Ninja all over Montana in my white helmet and black and white jacket, open carrying my XD .45 on my right hip. To me, the combination was freedom squared. In fact, my love of my bike is inextricably linked to my love of firearms.
I’ll never forget people asking why I carry on a bike. I rode my bike to the range to teach a woman in Montana to shoot (she followed me in her Toyota Rav4). I rode it to gather ammo for a shotgun shootout with friends. I carried over 15 lbs. of ammo in a backpack as I rode my bike up a mountain.
I enjoy all things that allow me to feel free. I felt free on this bike. But I’m a mother now, with greater responsibilities that require greater caution. Some day I’ll buy another bike. If I move to Wyoming [ED: Sara meant to say Austin, Texas], I’ll open carry as I ride. Boom.
Guns and bikes mix. No matter where you stand on either, if you love one, you’ll at least love the idea of freedom emanating from the other. It’s a sad day for me but it’s onto bigger and better things. And I still have my guns.