Nerd to Babe Magnet by the Magic of Motorcycles

Although they love the freedom and sense of flying that they feel when they're riding, there's a corner in every male motorcyclist's brain that says, "Riding a motorcycle makes you more attractive."

Don't misunderstand: I'm not on the market, Robin's the only girl for me. That part of my brain says she's thinking: "There goes one hot pappa and he's all mine..." as she watches me ride off to work every morning. She probably thinks about how sexy my butt looks, too.

While most women may outwardly snort at a middle aged man buying a motorcycle and make comments about mid-life crisis and pitiful attempts to recapture boyhood, my wife gave me the story straight. She told me that when she sees me cruising up on my mammoth muscle bike I instantly appear twice as hot to her.

That means on a hotness scale of one to ten my motorcycle transforms me into a solid two.

If I hide her glasses and get a couple of tequila shots down her neck I bet could cross the "three" line.

Okay, I made all that up; I'm a solid two without the motorcycle.

What were Robin's actual words after she followed me home from EuroSport Cycle on my bike? Well, the conversation went like this:

ME: [Entering living room, helmet under arm and still wearing the black leather gloves and jacket even though I'd had plenty of time to take them off (but I look so cool in them!)] "So how'd I look boynin' up thuh slab on mah new machine?"

ROBIN:[Picking up the remote and scrolling to the 'American Idol' recording from last night] "You looked real cute riding your new motorcycle, Honey. What's a 'slab' and why are you talking like that?"

ME: [Long pause, waiting a bit for the sting to subside] "Okay, I wasn't exactly going for 'cute' when I insisted on buying the largest bike on the market. I did tell you that's a 2300cc engine between those two wheels, right?"

ROBIN: "Oh, honey, you know what I mean by 'cute'. But you change lanes kinda funny on it. Are you sure you're supposed to do it that quickly?"

ME: "I was just putting her through the paces...getting a feel for it...wait, I'm not done talking about your impression. Don't you have any other words to describe the situation besides 'cute'?

ROBIN: "Oh sure, Sweetie, your bike is gorgeous and you looked really happy on it. And you were cute on top of all that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had just invested $15,000 in high anticipation that I would be described as 'tough', 'manly', 'brave', 'heroic', 'impressive', 'burly', 'daring', 'mysterious', 'bad-ass'...all kinds of words that I would use if I were a woman and saw me riding that big bruiser down the road.

A fifteen grand British hot rod motorcycle just had to bump me way up on the wife's hotness scale.

I'd envisioned all the things that came to mind every time you see one of those Triumph commercials or a biker movie with a motorcycle cruising along, the rider wearing those dark sunglasses, a half-helmet if any at all, long hair and beard flowing in the wind, legs splayed on pegs jutting out from crash bars like he's about to kick the door off any car that dares get too close; the image of living wild and running free.

Why couldn't she see the transformation into that sort of guy that happened when I was rollin' on two wheels? Should I buy a phone booth to change into my riding gear in? Just as surely as Nicholas Cage became "Ghost Rider" when he mounted his bike, I became "Handsome Bad-Ass Biker Dude" when I mounted mine. This I believed every time I got within that sacred owner-only proximity zone around my bike.

We hadn't discussed it; I just assumed she would see the obvious transformation. After all, she had recently gotten her new eyeglasses.

She had to be messing with my mind. Then again, perhaps something was still missing.

I knew I had to take the final step to ensure she would never again see me as 'cute'. I had to truly commit to becoming 'Biker Dude' whether I was near my bike or not. On the road, or sitting on the couch, I had to walk the walk and live the life. I was dead serious and 100% all-in.

As I left her to watch 'American Idol' I made a silent vow to grow out my hair and beard and get a tattoo.

A temporary tattoo, of course.