LYRICS & stories behind the songs


click the tabs for the Lyrics


Put Me on My Motorcycle
“Put Me on My Motorcycle” is one of the few songs whose melody came to me at the same time the lyrics did – both while I was riding Ocean Parkway, doing the loop between the Jones Beach and Robert Moses towers. That’s my favorite local ride – where I first soloed, as a matter of fact -- and I ride there often just to clear my head and breathe. When I ride, my brain just shuts off the chatter, and I feel like my bike and I are one entity. Sometimes I feel I can’t breathe unless I’m riding, and it always amazes me how much I feel like I’m part of the environment when I’m on two wheels.


Put me on my motorcycle.
Let me feel the power 'neath me.
These two wheels feel like a part of me,
Like we're one my bike and me.

When it's feelin' like the pressure of the world's upon me,
The ridin' heals me, my body and my soul.
There's freedom as the wind and world go whooshin' by me,
And nothin' else can soothe me
Like the road beneath my wheels nurtures and heals, hm-mmm-mmm.


Comes a time in your saddle when there's no more uphill battle,
And you're soarin' like an eagle who's high above the trees.
It's like your blood and oil are circulatin' both together,
And there's no distinction between your feet and wheels;
That's how it feels. Hmm-mm-mm.


There comes a point in every rider's solemn journey
When he hears the call of chrome and oil and steel.
He can't explain his yearning for the open highway,
The smell of gasoline on his fingers once so clean.
You know what I mean? Hmm-mm-mm.


When I'm cruisin' past the ocean as it licks the seashore,
I'm swimmin' with the dolphins and jumpin' 'cross the waves.
I just become a part of all the world around me:
The forest and the valley, aroma from the trees -
All of it's me. Hmm-mm-mm.

She's Too Busy Ridin
“She’s Too Busy Ridin’” came about when I pulled into South Shore Cycle for an oil change after a long bike trip to one of the East Coast rallies. There was a guy there who was picking up his bike, which was all chromed-out and sparkling clean. As I pulled in, he looked in disgust at my bike, which was full of about 2,500 miles of road dirt. He said, “Don’t you wash that thing? It’s filthy. It's a disgrace.” Without missing a beat, the owner of the shop, Terry, shot back at him, “She’s too busy riding hers.” The guy’s face dropped, and he didn’t say another word. He just got on his bike and left.


Rode my bike to Terry's shop to change the plugs and oil.
Just got back from a trip down South, And she was full of grime and soil.
Had a grand old time a-ridin' 'round through dirt and dust and rain.
Couldn't wait to get her all fixed up and get on the road again.

A guy named Mike was waitin' there when I rode her in that day.
His bike's chromed out and squeaky clean, always perfect, on display.
He said to me, "Don't you wash that thing?! It's so filthy a disgrace!"
Without missin' a beat, Terry glared at him as he put him in his place.
He said:


She's too busy ridin' to take time to keep it clean.
While you're so busy shinin' yours, she's riding' her machine.
While you're cruisin' bars and showin' off, the highway's where she's seen.
She's too busy riding' to take time to keep it clean.

Now, Terry ain't one for flattery or false compliments, for sure,
And Mike knew Terry's words were true, and they hit him to the core.
I just smiled and waved good-bye to Mike as he climbed on his machine.
I think he knew his words were harsh and maybe downright mean.

But that's all right -- no harm, no foul -- as Terry saved the day.
He knew he'd see me soon enough to change the oil again.
And when the glisten on my bike gets covered by some dirt,
I remember those words that Terry said that saved my pride from hurt.
He said:


It's not just dirt and dust, you know; she's full of bumps and scars.
Some chrome is off, an she had to get a second set of mirrors
'Cause she rides on grass that's four feet high, through streams about two feet deep,
On mounds of dirt and rocks and stones, 'bout everywhere you can think.

There's scratches on her windshield; radiator's full of bugs and bees.
And there's two big dents upon the top of her gas tanks from my knees.
Every scratch tells a story of adventures far and wide.
So, sit with me, and I'll tell you tales 'cause I ride my bike with pride.

Yeah, I'm too busy ridin' to break out a can of wax.
If there's a choice between to "ride" or "clean," I'd rather be makin' tracks.
From New York to Daytona and everywhere in between,
I'm too busy ridin' to always keep her clean.

It's not that I'm promotin' a dirty bike campaign.
In the world of cheer, my bike's a beer while yours may be champagne.
But she's loved like no other; she makes my heartstrings soar.
We take what comes together no matter what's in store.

So, if you say my bike is not as shiny as could be,
Remember ev'ry beauty mark tells a story 'bout her and me.
I always will remember that day in Terry's shop,
When he stood by me and said with pride, "She never wants to stop."


Yeah, I'm too busy ridin' to take time to wash my bike.
And if you got a problem, well then, you can take a hike.
My saddlebags are always packed though maybe not pristine.
I'm too busy ridin' to always keep her clean.
Yea, I'm too busy ridin' to always keep her clean.
Thank God I'm a Biker Girl
"Thank God I’m a Biker Girl” is the song that started it all. When I couldn’t get the melody of “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” out of my head during a ride to the Murrell’s Inlet Rally, I just made up my own lyrics to it as I rode, all about the Queensboro Motocycle Club and its members. By the time I reached South Carolina, I had almost the entire song. The publisher and composer of the original songs were kind enough to give me their permission to use their melody with my lyrics, for which I am ever grateful.


Well, I'd ride ev'ry minute of the day if I could,
But I know that my boss wouldn't take it very good.
So, I ride when I can, work when I should.
Thank God I'm a biker girl.

We go ridin' to the rallies that are out of state,
To Daytona and to Myrtle Beach -- they're just great!!
Ridin' highways and back roads. I can't wait!!
Thank God I'm a biker girl.

Well, I got me a guy that I'm really fond o'.
He rides a Harley, and I ride a Honda.
We go ridin' everywhere out yonder.
Thank God I'm a biker girl.

We love ridin' with our friends in the motorcycle club --
With Bob and with Billy, Louie, Mark, Vic, and Doc.
It's never too early to be beer o'clock.
Thank God I'm a biker girl.

We ride the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Ramapo,
Takin' twisties and turnies, ridin high and ridin' low.
When they say, "Saddle up," I'm ready to go.
Thank God I'm a biker girl.


If you miss our rodeo, then you're really a fool
'Cause Chris' baked beans'll really make you drool,
And ain't nothin' more fun than a Port-a-Potty pull.
Thank God I'm a biker girl.

From the coast of New Hampshire to the Jersey Shore,
I love ridin' and ridin' and then ridin' some more.
I got a gel seat so my ass ain't sore.
Thank God I'm a biker girl.


Well, life on the road is really laid back.
All I need are jeans and what fits in my sack,
Rain gear and boots and a bottle of Jack.
Thank God I'm a biker girl.'

Now I may be hangin' with a tougher crowd,
Little rough around the edges, and their pipes are kinda loud,
But we're more than fam'ly -- we're biker proud.
Thank God I'm a biker girl.

Been Ridin
“Been Ridin’” was inspired during our ride home from Daytona’s Biketoberfest when we were riding through the cotton fields of South Carolina. Traveling alongside fields of white, I kept thinking of Gone With the Wind and stories about how challenging it is to pick cotton by hand. We were taking our time riding home, and it was so peaceful and relaxing on that country road that it lulled me into a bluesy mood. Songs like “Summertime” from Porgy and Bess came to mind. I thought about our long and sometimes tiring journey home, too. “Been Ridin’” was born of all these elements rolled into one.


O, Lord, lead me home.
Been ridin’ and away so long.
Started out, and I was strong,
But now I’m tired and chilled to the bone.

Been ridin’ over mortar and stone.
Been ridin’ all alone
Been ridin’ till I didn’t care
From everywhere and back to nowhere.

Been ridin’ to conquer the fear
Now I’m longin’ for arms so dear.
Oh, Lord, take this chrome
And lead this motorcycle home.

The road was callin' me. The song was there.
I heard its echo ringin' in my ears.
I knew I'd find it somewhere out on the road.
Couldn't stop my weary self till it showed.

Been ridin’ just to roam.
Didn’t matter where I’d gone.
Been ridin’ till I heard this song.
So, now, Lord, lead this biker home.

Been ridin'. Oh, Lord, lead me home.
Biker True and Proud
“Biker True and Proud” began as an idea when Curtis and I were riding home from the East End of Long Island, he on his giant Harley and me on my Honda. He occasionally likes to show off his 6-speed, Power Commander acceleration and leave me in the dust. However, his penchant for going from zero to 90 in 3 seconds didn’t give me enough material for an entire song, and I put the idea aside.

The remainder of the story came during our cross-country honeymoon. On Route 90 in Montana, the signs that warned of cross-winds weren’t kidding. With his 900-pound bike with a 103-inch engine, Curtis’ speed was hardly affected. Not so with mine. Headwinds and crosswinds can slow my 500-pound 750 cc Honda down a little bit, especially if we’re going uphill at the time. The speed limit was 80 on that road, and trucks were blowing past us. Curtis expressed his concern for my safety in the form of anger (kind of a man thing to do). He pulled me over and yelled at me because I couldn’t keep up with the traffic. And bingo!! I had the remaining lyrics for this song.


I ride a 750 that's seven years old.
She's not fast enough is what I've been told,
But she fits my ass in the heat and cold.
She's worth her weight in gold.
You say you're tough. You ride a 103
And that in the dust you're gonna leave me.
Well, I ride hard, and I ride free.
determined is what you see.

I'm a biker true and proud,
Ride an iron horse that's free and wild.
A biker true and proud.
Admittin' I'm scared is not allowed.
I may not look so mean and tough,
But let me tell you, sir, I'm no powderpuff.
What it takes to ride, well, I got the stuff.
I got what it takes to ride.

When we met, I wouldn't get on the back.
So, you used your charm as your plan of attack.
And, yes, it worked, as a matter of fact.
Bikes, they hypnotize.

It wasn't long before I knew
That I was meant to ride two by two.
You knew it, yeah; you could see it, too.
You saw it in my eyes.


You know it's true that I don't scare,
And when you diss my bike, honey, I don't care,
'Cause I know she can go everywhere.
And I'm gonna take your dare.
Like I told you, baby, I'm no flower,
And I'm the one with the stayin' power.
So, let's get rollin' 'cause it is now or
Never. I don't cower.


Don't judge by size, either her or me,
'Cause that's no sign of integrity.
We're short but big on tenacity.
Just you wait and see.

With uphill winds, she may lose some pace,
But she'll get there fine; this ain't no race.
So, clear the way and give me space.
She's a Bike that I won't replace.

She crosses this country from east to west.
She's paid me back with interest.
She's the motorcycle that I love best.
We surely have been blessed.
The upshot is, I'll tell you this:
Your macho smirk I'll just dismiss.
'Cause she's my bike, and she's the best there is.
So, her tail pipes you can kiss.

Biker food
“Biker Food” came about as a result of a picture taken of me at the live oak tree in Daytona (see the Home page). I was horrified to see the 15 pounds I had put on during the first few years of dating Curtis. Prior to that, as a dancer, I was 110 pounds of solid muscle and was always watching my weight, exercising every day, and eating healthy foods. My body was unaccustomed to what I call “biker food,” which ranges anywhere from beer and pretzels to basically anything that’s fried and/or greasy. When Curtis and I go to bike rallies, each day’s activities are more often than not planned around what we are going to eat.

After several years of this, my body eventually declared mutiny in the form of gastroesophageal reflux disease, and so, in January 2015, with my head penitently lowered between my fat little legs, I showed up on the doorstep of the nutritionist from whom I’d played hooky for 7 years. After a few months of supplements and changing my diet, I not only felt better, but the 20 pounds I subsequently lost enabled me to fit into my wedding dress in July.


Burgers and dogs, beef jerky and booze.
Well, I used to be thin. Baby, now I can't lose.
I'm dating a biker, no diets, no cares.
Beer and pretzels are the major fare.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food.

Pulled pork and ribs, fried shrimp and gator.
Well, you see me now 15 pounds later.
I eat everything with an order of fries,
And watch chili dogs goin' right to my thighs.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food.

I used to drink wine; had to learn to drink beer.
Ordered pinot noir (didn't matter what year)
The first time I went to a biker bar,
And it tasted like warmed over vinegar.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food.

I was such a health nut; to my diet was true
Before my days of drinking Jack with a brew
Now I'm dining on buffalo wings,
bacon and gyros and onion rings.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food.

Diets don't fly; they're self-defeating.
Well, bikers aren't known for good healthy eating.
I jogged before; down my face sweat would pour.
Now the runnin' I do is to the grocery store.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food.

I never knew they made a size 4X.
Well, that's what you wear when you live on Tex-Mex.
All you can eat, and I eat it all,
Lots of red meat and cholesterol.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.
Biker Food, it's no good, it's no good, fattening biker food.

Just let those pounds keep comin'; I don't care what I weigh.
I eat what I like, and I like it that way.
Biker food, it's so good, it's so good, yummy biker food.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Biker, biker food, biker food . . . .
Honey, it's so good.
As We Ride This Road Before Us
“As We Ride This Road Before Us” was written for our first dance together as man and wife. It was a surprise for Curtis, my wedding gift to him (well, besides a bridge, but that’s another story). All along, he had told me I could take care of choosing the music for the wedding, which I did. However, a few days before the wedding, he insisted he wanted a certain song for our first dance together. What was I going to do? After a long pause, I said, “Are you really going to make me ruin the surprise?”

“There’s a surprise?”
“Okay. Do what you were going to do.”

So, he knew there was a song coming, but he didn’t hear it until we danced to it on our wedding day. He still lovingly complains that he had to dance in front of all those people without having had any practice.


Today I tell the world I love you; it's forever, for all time
As we join our lives together, and you place your heart in mine.
Encircled by these rings of gold, two bands that have no ends,
Through the twists and turns I'll love you, through whatever's round the bends.
I will honor and uphold you forever as we roam
On adventures far and wide or nestled in your arms at home.

As we ride this road before us, coasting byways side by side
On the switchbacks, through the meadows, and the highways that we ride,
You will know I'll be beside you through the dark roads, through the storm.
You will find in me your refuge. I'm the hearth that keeps you warm.

And when life throws us detours or gravel by and by,
We will cherish every challenge that we conquer you and I.
For the times our road is paved and straight and times of potholes, too,
I will thank the Lord our God above because He gave me you.


Just be sure of one things always: that I love you, there's no doubt,
No matter what the path, and babe, no matter what the route
Because I don't fear the road ahead, the dark nights, or the cold
Because I know you're with me as we ride along the road.

Underneath an Overpass
We were riding from Daytona to Kissimmee making tracks
It was 4 a.m. and pourin' rain, and I was on the back.
50-mile-an-hour winds blew trucks right off the road.
We were anxious; we were tired; we were soaked, and we were cold.
The night was closin' in on us; it was late and gettin' later,
But the rain kept getting to the bike and choked the carburetor.
So, every now and then we'd stall and have to wait it out
Till the carburetor'd work again, and we'd continue on our route.

We were underneath an overpass with the rain a-pourin' down.
The wind was blowin' 'round so ,hard that trucks were bein' tossed around.
We were soaked right through our leathers from our heads right to our toes,
And how we'd get back safely, we knew God only knows.
He was desp'rate for a cigarette and felt his pocket for a smoke.
But every butt was cracked in half with the middle of them soaked.
He checked each one frustrated; then he'd toss it to the ground.
He was madder than I'd ever seen till a decent one he found.
It was bent, but it was whole. Then he just about went berserk.
I thought he'd lose his mind complete when his lighter wouldn't work.
The lighter, it was soggy, too, and the flint just wouldn't catch.
But that lighter was his only choice 'cause useless was a match.
We were underneath an overpass with the rain a-pourin' down.
The wind was blowin' sideways, and trucks were bein' tossed around
We were soaked right through our leathers from our heads right to our toes,
When he looked at me and bellowed, "This weather really blows."
He put the lighter on the twin in the hope to dry it out.
There were 60-mile-an-hour gusts, and sheets of rain were all about.
I looked at his frustration and a bit of worry, too,
As the dye from both our leathers turned our skin a deep dark blue.
I was lookin' at the water gushin' down outside the bridge
And his lighter on the engine. It was colder than a fridge.
Event'ally he got it lit and looked calmer (well, he tried),
But the sight of him wet with a bent cigarette got me giggling inside.
We were underneath an overpass with the rain a-pourin' down.
The wind was blowin' crazy hard, and trucks were bein' tossed around
We were soaked right through our leathers from our heads right to our toes,
As I watched a drop of water drip right off of his nose (and right onto his cigarette).
Well, I just couldn't help myself. He really was a sight,
And I felt a smirk a-comin', try to hide it as I might.
He glared at me and sternly said a harsh emphatic "Don't."
I couldn't hold it any more, and a flood of laughter broke.
Once it broke, I couldn't stop, and the madder still he got,
Which only made me laugh the more till my side was in a knot.
Tears of laughter soaked my face even more than the gushin' rain.
Thank God the bike was running now, and we were on our way again.
We were underneath an overpass with the rain a-pourin' down.
The rain was blowin' sideways, and trucks were bein' tossed around
We were soaked right through our leathers from our heads right to our toes.
It soaked right past the leathers and right down through our clothes.
Well, eventually we made it back to our hotel safe and sound.
We peeled off all our leathers 'til purple skin we found.
And, by the way, it don't wash off; you're a walkin' grape for days.
Takes the same to dry out leathers laid out in sunlight's rays.
I lived to tell this story. He didn't shoot me . . . well, not yet.
I still get a wholesome chuckle from that night I can't forget.
We walked away with a story to tell lest a conversation lag.
And the lesson learned is never ride without rain gear in your saddlebag.
We were underneath an overpass with the rain a-pourin' down.
The wind was blowin' 'round so hard, that trucks were bein' tossed around
We were soaked right through our leathers from our heads downt to our toes.
Well, that's how it is with biking; yet, our love for it still grows.
Yeah, that's how it is with biking; yet my love for it still grows.
Bonny, Bonny Journey
It's all about the journey.


Oh, you take the highway, but I like the byway,
And though you'll be arrivin' afore me,
I'll take my time meeting folk of like mind
On the bonny, bonny journey afore me.

To covering distance I have no resistance
When life is a-harried and hurried,
But I'm good and well when the roses I do smell
On the bonny, bonny journey afore me.

There's rivers and farmland right there at your hands
And flowers arrayed in God's glory,
And I'd be remiss if the scenery I did miss
On the bonny, bonny journey afore me.

On roads paved with find gold or streets fill with potholes
My angels watch over and guard me.
I know that I'm blessed whether riding or at rest
On the bonny, bonny journey afore me.

When my engine stops revvin', and I'm ridin' into Heaven,
And I'm meetin' Jesus who saved me,
I'll thank Him with love and the Father up above
For the bonny, bonny journey He gave me.


Shepherd's Christmas
Curtis and I were tapped out before Christmas 2014, but it was nonetheless joyful because we had each other.  P.S. to this story:  Just 6 days before that Christmas that year, a large amount of money I had been owed for 12 years was finally paid, and because of that, I was able to begin recording my songs. 


Walkin' through the CVS, seeing all the trinkets there,
Just dreaming' of some gifts to buy with not a dime to spare.
My love and I, we searched and searched and reveled in the fun
To find the perfect card and gift.
The Christmas hunt was on.

I think I spent an hour picking out the perfect card
To give me love which says the things that ring true in my heart.
I called to him so sweetly and showed him what I had found.
I read it to him line by line. He didn't make a sound.

They gazed at me those hazel eyes. My words had meant a lot.
He hugged me as he said to me, "Best present I ever got."
Then we placed the card back on the shelf and looked at other things,
Picking presents we would give each other if we only had the means.

We left with empty hands that day, without a single toy.
We had instead those wondrous gifts of peace and love and joy.


Ave Maria
You may be wondering what Schubert’s “Ave Maria” is doing on this CD of biker songs. If you read the story behind “Shepherds’ Christmas,” you may begin to understand. The Blessed Mother has helped us in so many ways throughout our relationship as well as on the road – most especially on our cross-country honeymoon -- that we just had to do her homage. On our wedding day, I sang the “Ave Maria” during the ceremony, and Curtis asked that I include this song on this CD. And, of course, I gladly did.

May the Blessed Mother always watch over you and bring you many blessings.


Ave Maria, gratia plena.
Maria, gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus,
Dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in mulieribus,
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris,
Ventris tui, Jesus.
Ave Maria.

Translation: "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Hail, Mary."


How This Album Came About

     It all began when Curtis and I were riding to the 2013 Myrtle Beach Spring Rally.  Having no radio on my bike, I often sing while I ride.  This particular day I must have been channeling John Denver because I couldn’t get “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” out of my head.  Not knowing all the lyrics, I began making up my own, all about riding and our friends in Curtis’ motorcycle club, Queensboro. 
     By the time got to each gas stop, I’d have another verse, and by the time we got to Myrtle, I had almost the entire song.  After that, I began writing about all of our adventures on the road, putting my lyrics to other songs.  Eventually I began writing my own melodies.  That’s when I decided to record them.