father was a 1%er in the late 1960's in Fontana, CA. As a child growing up, our home was filled with bikers of all types and I worshiped them all. My parents divorced when I was only 5 and this broke my heart and my spirit. My mother and her new husband were very abusive and neglectful, the men she continued to bring into our home sexually abused me and at one point in my mid-teens, she took money from her friends to let them have sex with me.
My mother is addicted to prescription drugs to this day and I do not have a relationship with her. For most of my life I hated her.
My father was a tender, loving philosopher who spent his life on his motorcycle, shunning the norm, caring little about money and possessions, and died at the age of 50 from a cerebral hemorrhage from his drug use. He died shortly after holding my newborn daughter Olivia for the first time. I have missed him every day since his death.
My adult life was spent trying to be a model wife and mother, hoping this would validate me and fill the emptiness in my heart from a traumatic childhood. I could cook any dish, sew anything, and masterfully arrange flowers. I threw Victorian Tea Parties and drove the car pool. I was a good Mom, good wife, loyal friend, and dying inside.
The only joy I ever found was being a mother to my daughter. My husband was cruel and emotionally abusive to both my daughter and me. This caused her to move out when she was 18, and I realized how empty I had become. I missed her so much I ached inside all of the time. But she had her life to live and once she was gone, I realized I had mine.
Having never really fit in to my homogeneous, suburban setting, I had become inauthentic. Not really a homemaker, or church lady, nor P.T.A Mom, I could hear my soul crying for something more. I dreamed of riding motorcycles as my Dad once had, seeing the country, meeting new people, taking me where I dreamed of being.
divorced my abusive husband, lost weight, started hiking, motorcycling, reading, and became a local beauty queen. I even fell in love and remarried, and we started a life together. My social life exploded and I was going to parties, mixers, meeting people, rubbing elbows and making friends. But I found even that wasn't enough.
My new husband Steve and I sold most of what we own and went off to see America. We rode our two motorcycles across the country with no home to return to. This wasn't a vacation or a trip, it became a lifestyle; motorcycle vagabonds.
I found the time I needed to sort out the misery in my heart and mind, helped me to find the gratitude I missed, and brought me to a place of peace. I'm no longer angry at my mother and I no longer miss my father. I love myself now in a way I never understood possible.
We now live on the road calling no place home, except each other. We call our journey our Road Pickle.
"Learning is finding out what you already know. Doing is demonstrating that you know it."
I am happy with whom I've become and I intend to live a life authentic daily. The beauty is, I've created a life for myself where I don't have to answer to anyone but my own conscience. Many people find me "rude" because I refuse to conform to other's expectations. I find that every time I straddle my motorcycle and fire up the engine, there's more for me to learn. Every person I meet has something to teach me, every horizon is a new gift of beauty, every morning another opportunity to love someone. I want to live my life experiencing, not existing.
My life philosophy is BE YOU ~ Boldly Embrace Your Own Uniqueness.
I'll never hide myself again.