Learning to Ride Together: A Road King, Route 14, and a Marriage in Motion
Sunday, March 20, 2022 — Barre, Vermont to South Royalton via Route 14.One Harley-Davidson Road King. One family car. One couple learning to ride a new road — literally and emotionally.
As a planner, I like predictability and preparation. I read the weather, plan the snacks, route the course, and leave 10 minutes early. Just in case. My husband? Not so much. He rides instinctively, stops when moved, and lets the road unfold without a plan.
This dynamic has led to a few... let’s call them “growth opportunities” over the years. And when it came time for his first-ever solo ride on his new (to him) 2009 Road King Classic, we did what any sensible couple would do:We went together — he on the bike, and I in the car, leading the way.
The Ride Begins: A Tale of Two Travel Styles
We had one hand signal reviewed and agreed on:Left hand over the head pointing right = Pull over. Something’s wrong.“The left hand does the signaling,” he explained, “because the right hand’s on the brake.”This wasn’t just a gesture — it was an act of peacekeeping. My brain doesn’t do well with vague. I need the why and the why not, or the whole plan falls apart.
The ride itself? It started tense.
He hadn’t checked the weather. He didn’t zip his jacket. Meanwhile, I was breaking hard to warn him of potholes, peeking in the rear-view every 30 seconds for that agreed-upon hand signal.“Is that the signal? Nope — just his flappy jacket. Why didn’t he zip that thing? He’s going to get sick.”
In the background, my childhood—long Sunday drives through hay fields, looking for deer with my dad, collided with the stress of trying to lead someone whose instinct is to go solo.
Pulling Over — and Coming Together
After 18 miles of internal yelling at traffic and whispering at my husband like he was a toddler learning to walk:“Speed up.”“Take the turn wider.”“WHY is that person on their phone?”
I pulled off using my right turn signal — because that’s what it’s for — and forced a timeout.
To my surprise, he was glowing. He had a big smile and a confident posture. He loved every second of it. Meanwhile, I was emotionally hoarse from screaming at clouds.
So we did something for me: we made a better plan.
He zipped up his jacket.
I cleaned the back windshield.
We added two more hand signals to our arsenal:
Left palm down = slow down
Left palm up = speed up("Wait... there are more hand signals?!" I thought. Out loud, I said, “Thank you. That’s helpful.”)
The Rest of the Ride
We discussed the route. We reset. And we got back on the road — together. After a mile, my shoulders began to relax. After two, the radio came on . Half a mile later: “I wonder if he saw those turkeys? Turkey season’s coming up. I should get the bow out.”Another stretch, and I noticed he’d drifted too far behind. My first instinct? Slow down. Then I caught myself. No. He needs to learn to catch up.I rolled down the window, reached out with my left hand, palm up. Go faster.
In the End
We’re still figuring out how to ride together. One of us plans, and one of us feels. But both of us are learning that a good ride—like a good relationship—doesn’t always need to be perfect. It just needs communication, trust, and the willingness to pull over when we’re not quite in sync.
And maybe, just maybe, a few extra hand signals.