She was like no other.  Riding the Harley with her was natural.  The problem was how Jojo was only 16.  I was 31.  A married man on the threshold of divorce, loss of a career, away from my only son, debt ridden with a plan destined to fail.  My soon to be ex-wife moved away with my son a year earlier leaving me to deploy to war for the fourth time.  I returned from Iraq to find no home and no family.

That’s when she arrived.  It was the spring of 2003.  Within weeks of returning home from Iraq, I had nearly nine months remaining in the military leaving me to be in a state of constant brainstorming ideas about what I should do with my future.  The only relief was the motorcycle.  I cannot remember if I had called her.  Memory simply has her arriving on scene with me at the storage unit pulling out the motorcycle.  Riding for nearly nine months with Jojo, my plans began to change.  She became my plan.  How do I get back to my son’s side, continue helping with the war and get Jojo back?  Torn in three directions, the only way I knew to start was to leave.

She pulled up in her black Toyota Four Runner exiting the truck with a beaming smile carrying an absolutely stunning appearance.  This was not the girl I left behind when I departed to war.  She was someone totally new.  Improved.  Refreshing.

Wiping down the bike I couldn’t help but lower my eyes for fear she would know how surprised I was.  How, enthralled I became.  Who is this girl?  What happened to her?  She looks amazing!

Long brunette hair flowed down to her shoulders.  Her tanned skin flowed across her arms leading under her black t-shirt worn over blue jeans and boots.  Her skin reappeared at her neck line rising up to reveal a remarkably bright expression with bright “Thai-Asian” eyes and a beaming smile filled with energy.  The world around her came to a halt.  She was the new life of the party.