The manner of my mother’s passing is no big secret. Photos of the accident were plastered insensitively on local news sites. A local motorcycle hobbyist group called Reckless Lifestyle put on a fundraiser for her funeral expenses at the Harley Davidson dealership. We had her motorcycle jacket, helmet, and gloves on display at her memorial service. When we intern her ashes this upcoming week, her helmet will be buried with her. Motorcycles have been a family hobby and passion for generations. My Great Grandpa rode old Triumphs, and my Grandpa now owns a vintage motorcycle restoration business post-retirement. In one of the photo below, she’s in her walker as a baby, right in front of a motorcycle (and a Volkswagen, in true form).

We didn’t try to remove images of motorcycles from her history. I know that the accident itself signifies how dangerous riding can be, and I know that my grandpa felt guilty for being the one to introduce her to one of her lifetime passions when she was just 3 years old (I hope he doesn’t continue to blame himself). She’s pictured below on her first little Indian motorcycle.

A revisionist history of my mom’s life–one that doesn’t include the importance of riding–wouldn’t be honest. Motorcycles weren’t just a literal part of her life, but a symbolic one as well. Riding embodied her entire approach to life. An excerpt from her eulogy:

Part of what it meant to be one of Claire’s daughters was riding on the back of her motorcycle with her. The feeling of being with her on one of her rides was transcendent. It was about intensity, about confidence, about having an insatiable thirst for life, and about living wholly in the moment. She loved riding so she could take in the sights and smells of the world uncaged and unfiltered. She loved the smell of the passing fields, the smell of summer rain on hot pavement, and the smell of racing fuel.

She had no hesitation in seeking adventure, nor did she hold back from nurturing and loving with a vulnerable heart, because she knew the cost of loving and living fully was worthwhile. She did not fear death, though she lost so many loved ones closest to her. She told a number of people verbatim that this is the way she’d want to go–no lingering sickness, no fear, no pain.

I love how we have so many photos of her being a downright badass on motorcycles, spanning throughout her entire mortal existence.

Summer of 2013

At their wedding