At 83, Grandma Surprised Everyone with Her Bold Birthday Gift

GRANDMA JUST TURNED 83—AND GAVE HERSELF A MOTORCYCLE

All of us were anticipating socks. Or a brand-new crossword puzzle book. Grandma’s typical birthday presents, you know.

However, no. Not this year.

With a smile on her face like she had just looted a bank, she rode out of the garage this year on a full-sized, chrome-covered, roaring Harley that had a bow glued to the handlebar.

“I asked myself, if not now, when?” As if she had been born in leather, she revved it as she spoke.
She had apparently been saving for two years.

Parts of her bingo winnings and Social Security cheques were hidden away. didn’t inform anyone. Even Grandpa (may he rest in peace) was afraid of bicycles, but this beast made him even more so.

It was more than simply a birthday present when we saw her ride out of the garage that day; it was a statement. Grandma was no longer the gentle, submissive woman who knitted and baked all day.

She was a completely different person with a burning will to live despite the fact that she was getting older.

At first, there was silence in the room. My aunt, who was seated behind me, dropped her fork in the middle of her meal. Tommy, my skeptic cousin, almost choked on his drink.

And me? All I could do was gaze in shock. Grandma, who could memorize every line of every old movie and baked the best apple pie in town, was suddenly a motorbike rider.

“Are you, Grandma? Are you serious? I asked at last, still gazing at her, appearing way too at ease on that bike, with her helmet under her arm.

With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she grinned. “Why not? Kiddo, you only have one life. You might as well savor it now.

I looked to my mother, thinking she would be angry or unhappy. Rather, her eyes were huge, and she was covering her mouth with her hands.

With a tone of wonder and worry, she questioned, “Where did you even learn to ride?”

Grandma, still grinning, shrugged. “I didn’t decide to buy it one morning after waking up. went to the community center to take a class.

For the past few months, I’ve been practicing in the woods. Not too wild. simply learning how to deal with it.

“You’re riding in the woods right now?” Tommy questioned with disbelief. “You’re eighty-three, Grandma! When you’re not in your eighties, that’s something you do.

The sound of Grandma’s laughter filled the kitchen. “Aren’t I still here? Waiting for things to happen is the worst thing you can do in life. At 83, life doesn’t end. It’s only the beginning, if anything.

Questions, incredulity, and a great deal of laughter filled the following few hours. Grandma told us how she had always wanted to try riding a motorcycle but had never had the opportunity.

She also talked about the freedom she felt while she was on the road and the wind in her hair (behind the helmet, of course).

She kept her goals to herself since she didn’t want to force them on her grandfather, who had gone white at the thought of even going close to a motorbike shop.

But now that he was dead, she thought the moment had arrived. Don’t wait any longer. Holding back is over.

She whispered, “I took care of everyone else for so many years.” “I thought it was my turn to take care of myself.”

We weren’t sure if we should be happy for her or afraid for her, but ultimately, it made no difference. She was done. And it was more motivating to see her in that leather jacket, still laughing and full of enthusiasm, than we could have ever imagined.

She spent the following few weeks riding that motorcycle all around the town, the neighborhood park, and sometimes even down to the beach.

The “cool grandma,” who could be seen driving down the road and who would wave at the younger population as if she were in her prime, was the subject of anecdotes from her bingo buddies.

The twist, however, came next.

We received the call about a month later. A car had attempted to pass Grandma too closely, resulting in a minor collision that was not life-threatening.

Thank God, she was unharmed. Her arm was only slightly painful and bruised. But we were all sufficiently frightened.

That night, with a knot in my gut, I drove to her residence. What if she had determined that this was excessive? What if she wasn’t as hurt as she claimed?

However, she was reading a book and drinking a cup of tea in her favorite recliner when I entered the living room. Her face was calm, almost serene, as she gazed up.

“Well, kiddo, I suppose I’m fortunate,” she grinned. “It might have been worse.”

With a sigh of relief, I took a seat next to her. You must stop doing this, Grandma. You aren’t growing younger.

For the first time in weeks, she set down her tea and gave me a serious look as she met my eyes. “I understand, my love. But what do you know?

I must do this precisely because I’m not getting any younger. Living the life I desire is more important than taking chances. What good is it to sit in this chair and wait for the inevitable for the rest of my life?

Her remarks were like a ton of bricks to me. It has nothing to do with the motorcycle. It had to do with the lesson she was imparting to all of us.

Life is too valuable to let fear control every decision you make, and it is too short to wait for the “right time.”

“You were correct,” I muttered. “You were correct all along.”

Grandma grinned, seemingly aware of the effect her words had on me. “Don’t wait, child. It makes no difference how old you are. You must take life by the handlebars and give it a try. And you get back up after falling.

I kept thinking about what she had said that night. In the grand scheme of things, the motorcycle and the collision seemed so insignificant.

Not only did Grandma gift us a bike, but she also taught us to live life to the fullest and without regret.

I began making little adjustments throughout the course of the following few months. I enrolled in a course that I had been avoiding for years.

I created extra time for the activities I enjoyed and had previously put off. Like Grandma, I was at last living for myself.

Then she shocked me once more one day. She invited me to accompany her to the neighborhood bike store.

She had been considering purchasing a new, somewhat more powerful motorcycle that would be more dependable. She laughed as she remarked, “A girl has to stay up to date with the times.”

Knowing that it was much more than a motorcycle made me happy. It was her method of showing me that we were much more capable than we realized, regardless of what life threw at us.

Grandma taught me that year to take chances, to chase your dreams, and to not wait for approval to live, and I’ve carried that lesson with me ever since.

Life isn’t always about the big, spectacular moments. Sometimes, it’s about the little, bold decisions we make and the bravery to keep going, regardless of our age or what other people may think.

Therefore, if there is something you have been putting off doing for years, don’t wait any longer. Make the jump. Take hold of the handlebars. You won’t be sorry.

If this story inspired you, tell someone you care about and let’s remind each other that no matter how old we get, we should always make the most of life.