I remember when I was smaller, when I’d be walking in the park with my grandmother or sitting in her living room, we’d talk about our family. I used to love hearing old family tales or looking through the black and white photo albums. I seemed to be related to so many interesting people. My favorite person to learn about, however, was Aunt Flora. Aunt Flora was not my aunt, in fact, she was my grandmother’s great aunt. Though, even still. I thought she was the most interesting person in the world.
My grandma told me how Flora’s husband had died in a car crash not long after their marriage. Aunt Flora was distraught, swearing then and there never to use a car ever again. That’s how she’d taken up motorcycling. She looked intimidating with her thick studded belt, boots and trademark white scarf. Especially on her Harley Davidson motorcycle. I remember flipping through photo albums just to find the old photographs of her, sunglass-clad, long brown hair blowing in the wind. She was practically my idol.
Before long, Flora herself had been hired to work for the Harley Davidson motorcycle company. There were models who posed with the motorcycles, though that sort of thing wasn’t for Flora. Oh no. Aunt Flora became a demonstrator, showing off her tricks to interested customers and motorcycle fanatics. It was all very exciting. My grandmother told me that there were accidents, too, like the time she crashed near a family friend’s house. Luckily, she was relatively uninjured, though her helmet was left on the site of the crash. I’ve been told it’s still in the friend’s possession today. Though I don’t know much more about her life, I’ll always look up to her as an idol figure, even if all I have are the photographs.
Submitted by Elise, Age 14