Cyndi Weiger earned her motorcycle license in June. She can be seen weekday afternoons on Route 120 in Lebanon riding her scooter to work with a red mohawk attached to her helmet. The following is an edited interview.
When I was a kid I always wanted a motorcycle. Instead, I got this old used bicycle with balloon tires. I remember it looked like it had been painted with house paint, baby blue, no gears. You pedaled your heart out to go forward and you pedaled backwards to stop.
To get anywhere I had hills to climb, and I realized that bikes should always have a little motor. It was something I thought about for 45 years.
There was a guy in Lebanon that had scooters for sale, and seeing them refreshed that childhood dream. I mentioned it to my husband, and one day he surprised me. He just felt that it was a dream that I'd had for so long.
My husband is tickled pink because he says the minute I get on there I have this big grin on my face, kind of like the one I had on the day we got married. It just brings me joy.
I could care less about the big motorcycles with the huge pipes that make noise. It's not so much having a motorcycle; it's about having a motor on my bike. I like the freedom, and just feeling the wind go by.
Another one of those childish things is I remember watching those old black and white cowboy western shows. The Mohawks that would occasionally show up, I thought they were the coolest hairdos. I found this one after work one night flipping through eBay, so I bought that Mohawk I always wanted but I never had the guts to do. I wouldn't put it on until I passed the motorcycle test. It was my pat- on-the-back for myself that I could do it. I feel silly at times. Kids stare and make faces from the back seat when they drive by. Other people smile and wave. The other day one of the construction guys said "Hey, chicken head." I said, "No, Roman centurion." Being different is always something cool, or it's not. I've always been a little different, and it took a long time to accept it.
Some day, I'll become too fragile and I won't be able to ride. But I can now say that I have. Dreams are worth hanging onto, even if it takes 45 years.