Um, yeah, it was a bit disconcerting to have you walk up to me and squeal with delight, asking in one breath if I'd ridden my bike in such gloomy weather and then how much fun it was; while you were practically peeing yourself, I was trying to figure out where I knew you from and why I couldn't recall your face or your name. I scrambled to reach the places in my brain that are covered in cobwebs and dust, thinking perhaps we'd known each other somewhere along the way of Life On Military Bases. Did our kids play with each other when they were little? Did we bowl together at some point? Do I have a stalker?
It did give me a bit of relief when you stopped long enough to realize you were confusing/scaring/annoying me, and then explained that you'd seen me riding around town on my little white bike. And that it was totally cool, especially once you'd figured out that wasn't some random guy on a bike, but a middle aged woman riding a =gasp= motorcycle. And now here I was! In the library!
While my brain was further puzzling over how you knew it was my drag-king self under that full faced helmet, you then laughed at yourself and further explained that my red, white, and blue leather jacket was hard to miss (which made me happy, because that means I'm visible enough that car drivers can see I'm there...) and you'd see it zipping down Peabody Road or Nut Tree every once in a while.
When I stopped being confused/scared/annoyed, it was nice to talk to someone else who was excited at the idea of taking up riding in middle age. (But no, I will not teach you how to ride; I'm still far too inexperienced myself. And no, I will not sell you my spiffy red, white, and blue leather jacket. I've never seen another one like it, and wouldn't be able to replace it. And I loves it, I really do. Well, maybe for $5,000...) If and when you decide to take the MSF course and get a bike, I'd love to ride aroudnd town with you. It'd be fun; we can start our own little Old Chick Biker Gang.