WIMA Victoria: The Pregnant Motorcyclist

The Pregnant Motorcyclist

The most common question asked of a pregnant motorcyclist seems to be 'When are you going to stop riding?'. This can be very annoying when it comes from well-meaning busybodies who have never swung their leg over a bike and believe your time would be better spent knitting booties. It is, however, a question that can't be dodged forever.

Moira suggested that lots of girls temporarily retire when their leathers no longer fit. After all, nobody wants to ride without leathers. This seemed to me to be a sensible idea as I smugly remembered that my leathers were at least a size too large. At four months, however, I rode home from work with tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn't comfortably do up my pants any more, but I sure as hell wasn't ready to give up riding. My social life had already been seriously curtailed by the clean-living rules of pregnancy, and riding was one of my few remaining pleasures.

The spring rains, however, made me pause for thought. It was time to avoid the slippery roads and test out the public transport option. I was still waiting at the city bus stop at the time I would normally be relaxing on the couch. Finally I climbed aboard and spent most of the trip gasping like a fish to keep the motion sickness at bay. I was completely unprepared for the swing around the roundabout and went flying out of my seat into the laps of the stunned passengers across the aisle, before rolling in a heap on the floor. Normally, this would be hysterically funny, but in my emotionally vulnerable state I had to stare fixedly out of the window to hide the tears trickling down my cheeks. Needless to say, I was back on the Ducati the next day.

At five months, I am still riding to work every day. The zip on my leather pants is completely undone and I use the last notch on my belt to keep them secured around my waist. I have to remember to keep my dri rider jacket zipped so as not to flash my knickers to everyone as I walk around the city. Jack donated his leathers to the cause, but you could fit three pregnant women in his pants-they had fallen down around my ankles before I even got near the bike!

Of course it's not just women who are affected by the expanding family. Several of my male work colleagues have sold their toys in favour of a dishwasher or some other 'essential' domestic appliance in preparation for the arrival of Junior. Luckily I am part of a dual riding marriage and therefore not subject to such ridiculous pressures.

A few observations from the early months: try to avoid overheating in your gear, and avoid restrictions around your waist and throat. These contribute to morning sickness and are likely to find you pulled up by the side of the road, dry reaching into the gutter.

So, when am I giving up riding? Oh, probably next week...

Michele Olsen