Romance On the Road

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Roaring down the road on a sleek new bike as the engine growls with each gear shift gives some couples another shot at being teenagers in love. They're rebels with 401(k) plans. Most women still ride on the back--"two-up" in motorcycle parlance — which provides the maximum physical closeness and a unique sense of partnership. This is "being one — together," according to Bill Davis, 53, a sales rep in Carlsbad, Calif. "If I am leaning left to turn left and my partner turns right, it can be perilous," he says. "It's like leading when you dance — a wonderful dance."

His wife Christine, 38, a telecommunications operations manager, says riding together is beyond sexy. "With no safety net of metal," she says, "you can only hang on to the person in front of you and put 110% of your trust in him for your life." For Cathy Long, 47, CFO of Spirit Finance Co. in Scottsdale, Ariz., part of the thrill is "being the chick on the back of the bike." Moreover, she says, because the motorcycle is a "guy thing," she relinquishes her usual "control freak" style and lets her husband George, 51, who works in real estate leasing, do all the prep work for road trips.

Others want more control. Increasingly, women who start as passengers are buying their own bikes, with female ownership up 1.4% since 1998, to 9.6%, according to the Motorcycle Industry Council.

Lou Raders, 38, an attorney in Denver, for example, found herself nodding off behind her attorney husband Phil Johnson, 46. "His Harley had a backrest!" she complains. "It was like a chair!" She bought herself a Harley Sportster 1200 and took the required course to get a motorcycle license. "It's still romantic," Johnson says, comforting himself. "I always ride behind her to watch and make sure she's O.K."

Gary Johnson has also missed the snuggling since Lynn got her own, but seeing his wife ride the Harley is sexy for him too, she insists. It's appealing to a man to have a woman ride a 680-lb. bike "like she knows what she's doing," she says.

Ever since she was 40, May Glostock, 72, of St. Louis, Mo., has been hitting the road, riding her own BMW with her husband George, 73, a letter carrier. They racked up thousands of miles, including an expedition to Alaska. But when George retired recently, they downsized to one bike, a BMW with a sidecar, which they take turns driving. Both dismiss the notion that you can be too old to ride. "If you have enough adventure in your soul," George asserts, "do it. If you doubt it, you have to live it."

Those who do live it describe the experience in poetic and romantic terms reminiscent of Robert Pirsig's philosophical, Beat-biker book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. "You experience everything," says Mike Becar, "mist from a new rain, a meadow of flowers."

For Phil Johnson, part of the romance attaches to his Harley itself, with its gleaming chrome and iconic status. Johnson sees the bike as a symbol of freedom and "American technology frozen in time."

Cathy and George Long, however, believe brand doesn't matter. They rent Hondas, BMWs, whatever their mood dictates. For them, riding offers a chance to shed their conservative identities on the back roads of Arizona, stopping at taverns with pickup trucks parked outside and country music blaring from the jukebox.