Confession time

I've had my bike for almost two years now, and finally today got round to confessing to my mother that I own one. It's taken this long because she used to work in A&E and for the last 30 years or so has been telling me I can't have one.

The conversation went along the lines of:

Me: Mum, I have something to tell you... I have a motorbike!
Mum: You don't!
Me: Yes, I'm sorry but I do. Would you like to see it?
Mum: Mmm.. Okay... (with much frowning)
Me: (brings up pic on PC)
Mum: Why didn't you get a black one!?!

Just remind her that more people die from domestic violence than on motorbikes, that should console her a bit.

Remind her of it while caressing a steak knife and giggling.

[Bibio]

what did i say at the GM....

bet you feel better now

[Fallout]

I think we've all been there, but for differing periods of time. Spank should tell us how his conversation went because he didn't tell him parents for at least a year.

Biking is only as dangerous as you make it. Parents only worry as much as you make them. My parents think I'm a sensible chap and will never hurt myself .... still trying to work out if that's true or not!

I eased my parents into it, they thought it was a dirt bike for ages then that it was more of a dual sport and by the time I came clean they'd kinda guessed already.

[Fallout]

Difference between mine and your parents is that your parents have decided they might as well spend your inheritance themselves.

I keep encouraging them to do so, they're less keen though oddly.

[timwilky]

My father was an insurance assesor who had seen the result of far too many deaths and being told to take the damm thing away. As a result there was a family rule that you do not live under his roof and ride a motorcycle. My brother moved out at 17 and emptied his bank account and bought a bike and moved into a dump flat.

We had bikes on the field as kids. But on the road was a no no. So when I bought first a bantam then a c15 and Hustler they were kept at my brothers until such time as I got my own place.

I was 45 before my father ever saw me on a bike. Despite he knowing I had bikes, It was only when he was dying and had accepted life was what you made of it that I felt I was able to ride down his drive.

I had a bike when I was 18 then got another when I was 30. I kept it from parents until they popped round one day to find it and a friends bike on the drive and a couple of lids on the table. They asked about the leather trousers I was wearing but not more. The next day my sister phoned and asked and the cat was out of the bag.