“What’s that supposed to be? A parasol?” said one of the men
standing close to his motorcycle.
I smiled. I’m used to getting questioned about the rickshaw rigging that my husband, Frank, built for me on the sidecar.
We had pulled into the parking lot of our favourite coffee shop. A large group of bikers had chosen the same destination that day.
“What’s a monkey doing with a covered sidecar?” asked
another.
"She calls it a Ural Hoodie," said Frank.
I turned the keys attached to the sidecar windshield and released the green canvas top. With little effort, I pushed the convertible top
over my head and tucked it behind me. I lifted myself from the cushioned seat
and stepped out of my chariot. I pulled down the bottom of my leather jacket
with one hand and unzipped it with the other.
“How do you like the cover?” asked one of the bikers.
“I love it!” I said. “It protects me from the hot sun, the
ice pellets and the rain.”
“My wife better not see it. She’ll want one for the back of
the bike,” he said.
I chose many years ago not to ride ever again on the back of
a motorcycle. I got bored real fast staring at the graphics on the back of my
husband’s helmet. My neck got kinked and locked from trying to peek around his
head to see what was around me. That nonsense ended when we got the Ural bike.
The freedom of a sidecar is luxurious. I can look in any
direction I like (within reason), smell the fragrances of the environment
around me, nibble on raisins when I’m hungry and stretch my legs out in front
of me. The Ural Hoodie that Frank made for me is spectacular. He got the idea
after our having spent four years in China ~ there are a lot of rickshaws
there.
Monkeys, think about a Hoodie.
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| Susan's Ural Hoodie |
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| Protection from the elements |
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| Rickshaw Rigging |
