Motorcycle Mama Can’t Wait to Climb Back on Her Bike

BROOKLYN - Betty Price has never let grass grow under her feet, so imagine how she feels with a protective boot on her fractured left foot that limits her mobility.

Why, this woman, who celebrated her 80th birthday on Feb. 17 at Yellowstone National Park's Old Faithful, can't even ride her motorcycle.

"There won't be any motorcycling for a while," she laments. "I'm not going to try to hold up that 600 pounds and have something happen again."

So, until at least midsummer, Betty's Yamaha 650 remains silent in her garage. She's limited to reliving her adventures on a walk down the picture hallway of her Brooklyn home.

Yep. There's one photo of Betty on her motorcycle in the hot sands of Daytona Beach, Fla. and another of her with daughter, Christy, standing next to their bikes and a sign welcoming them to Alaska's frozen tundra.

"I've been in all the states but Delaware and Hawaii riding a motorcycle," Betty says.

Not riding to Hawaii is obvious; not riding in Delaware is because of all the traffic.

But, Betty has ridden a motorcycle in Japan where she talked a young women into letting her take a short drive. And she's traveled the world without her cycle including Europe and Russia, Africa and China, Australia and Peru where she hopes to soon return.

At one end of her picture wall hangs a sign - "When you're over the hill, you pick up speed." - that clues you in to her frame of mind. But another sign, beside her front door, defines her motivation. It reads: "Destiny Leads Us Where We Not Other Wise Would Go."

Born up the road near Hartwick, this Motorcycle Mama got her start on a bicycle.

"Just to feel the wind in your hair," she says, "To smell the horseweeds and the tassels on the corn and new mowed hay. I thought if I could just have a motor on those two wheels I could see and smell more."

When she was a teen, her parents weren't too keen that she was saving money for a motorcycle. And, after she bought her 1951 Harley-Davidson, her future husband, Bob, wasn't thrilled, either, and wanted her to sell it.

"If you're going to take that away from me, we're not getting married," she told him. Betty reasoned he'd ask her to give up other pleasures, took a "last fling" ride with a girl friend and kept it.

She didn't ride much once she began having a family. By 1962 she had three children and was expecting a fourth when Bob, a rural mail carrier, was killed in a car accident. Christy, the youngest, was born the next day to join Bob Jr., 7, Mike, 4, and Linda, 3.

As a single mom, Betty struggled but worked hard and made it with help from friends. She set up a family lawn mowing business, remodeled their home (installing drywall herself), acquired rental properties and owns a series of storage garages.

"I put the kids on wages," she says. "If they trimmed a yard or mowed the cemetery, I kept track of their time."

Each of them grew up to own and ride a motorcycle at one time.

Life continued to challenge Betty, though, when Mike died in a cave accident in 1987 near Postville and she had the lymph nodes removed in her left arm in 1993 due to cancer.

"They said I wouldn't ride a motorcycle again," she says, "but I proved them wrong."

Working in the laundry at Grinnell College proved both therapeutic and rehabilitative. She tried riding a motor tricycle but gave it back after a weekend, preferring the freedom of two wheels.

This latest setback - Betty twisted her foot while walking down steps last September - was her own fault.

"I'm always in a hurry," she laughs.

Her motorcycle started first thing this spring. She can't wait to get that boot off, to feel the wind in hair, to smell the horseweeds and ...