Harley and Me Read Online Free

their dreams by watching others. It’s just as important for the larger culture to witness her exploits. If a woman undertakes a road trip because she watched a film that encouraged her, or read a book that gave her nerve, great. But if the men she encounters on the roadhave not seen that film or read that book, they may not have in their consciousness the same idea: that it’s okay for women to be on the road. That such a choice is not an invitation to abuse or danger. And that many women want to see the world and experience different ways of being just as much as men do.
    But until women are depicted that way in the stories that form our cultural consciousness, very real perils will remain.
    Vanessa Veselka, a writer and former hitchhiker, writes about this issue, arguing that true quest is about agency and the capacity to be driven past our limits in pursuit of something greater. “It’s about desire that extends beyond what we may know about who we are. It’s a test of mettle, a destiny. A man with a quest, internal or external, makes the choice at every stage about whether to endure the consequences or turn back, and that choice is imbued with heroism. Women, however, are restricted to a single tragic or fatal choice. We trace all of their failures, as well as the dangers that befall them, back to this foundational moment of sin or tragedy, instead of linking these encounters and moments in a narrative of exploration that allows for an outcome which can unite these individual choices in any heroic way.”
    The archetypal stories that drive us as a species—the hero’s journey and its many incarnations—either leave women out of the picture, or ask us to mold our adventures onto a male prototype. Or worse, they scare us into inaction with their warnings of failure and violence. Male-driven stories subconsciously limit the options women think we can explore. Where are the heroines’ journeys that are life enriching?
    Surely, countless other women like me want to engage adventure. But we hesitate for lack of a role model, for lack of a story line that provides a positive outcome, or out of fear of being ostracized or harmed.
    One positive role model comes shimmering into the foreground. I speak with Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail , a memoir about hiking 1,100 miles alone in her early twenties that was recently adapted into a film.
    â€œIt was hard,” she says of days she spent alone on the trail, dirty, bruised, sometimes lost. “It was physically hard for me to move over that space. I traveled by foot with a big weight on my back. But,” she pauses, “it was life changing . . . Once you have had that experience, you never forget that you’re capable of giving yourself everything you need and surviving.”
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    Back on the motorcycle range, we learn to walk our bikes in first gear across the asphalt, pushing them at the end of each lap to turn. And then, before we know it, we’re riding. Just little jaunts, but we’re moving and our feet are off the ground and on the pegs. My fear has been that I won’t be strong enough to keep the bike upright. How will I maneuver a machine that is three times my body weight? But physical strength isn’t the key. It’s more about agility and coordination, nimbleness and vigilance. And a bit of courage.
    When the morning break arrives, we’re all jubilant. Everyone figured out how to ride; no one flunked out. Mario and Kathie call us into the shade and ask us to record our thoughts about riding a motorcycle for the first time. I write a sentence or two and then step behind the storage building to call Dad.
    For the past two hours, it’s been a relief not second-guessing whether I should have gone out there this morning. Attempting something new and scary focused me, crowding out all other thoughts. I talk with my stepmom and hear that