They told me I couldn’t.

They said it would be too heavy, that I wouldn’t be able to handle. They said I would fail to get it steady, and it’s true. I sure did fumble. 

They said it would be disastrous, for there was no auto on a bike. They said it was ridiculous! Whoever heard a young chinese girl ride.

They said it wasn’t normal. For I was such a girly girl. They said I couldn’t. And I simply wouldn’t. 

Accept. 

Nor would I live a life with a regret.

It wasn’t easy, I would have to admit. I failed twice on the actual test, yet I couldn’t swallow the defeat. And I’m pretty proud swallow I could not. Because my gorgeous sweet little thing here, is a tough battle I’ve fought.

And won.  

I still remember the day I met my friend’s bike and fell head over heels. It was angelic, white and sleek. His helmet matched perfectly, and I knew deep down. I wanted this to be on my bucket list.

I didn’t really love bikes, nor cars. In fact, machines bore me. I was like every other girl, dresses and heels made me squeal. My wardrobe had only 2 pair of jeans; one for lab because we had to cover our legs, the other given by a friend. But getting a riding license was something, interesting. 

However, I was hesitant. I was scared, to be honest. I didn’t know if I could handle the bike’s engine, or lift the frame up if it fell. I was afraid of loud sounds and the roar of any car’s exhaust, would freak me as a pedestrian. It was just not, within my comfort zone

I believe my parents weren’t exactly a fan of my newly found muse either. They laughed, and joked. They said I’d probably give up during the learning process. And then they became serious. Dead serious, just before I took my first test. 

“You don’t see chinese girls riding. It’s not normal.” 

I nodded and left for the test. I remembered how I came home to their laughter when they heard I’ve flunked my first test. They snickered again, when the second one failed. 

“Aiya, motorbikes not for girls. Cannot pass one.”

Daddy’s voice echoed through my head that afternoon, but all I had myself fixated on, was my demerit points. I went for more practice, trying to grasp the physics behind the terms, ‘clutch’, ‘gear’ and ‘brakes’. There was plenty of room for improvement and finally, it paid off. 

So here I am, sitting on my very own bike even when they told me I couldn’t. I still love my dresses, and heels still make me squeal. But what’s different, is that I’ve created another comfort zone for myself. 

One by first, stepping out of my “comfort zone”. 

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