I wore pink. Part 2.
see part 1 here: https://amyliming.wordpress.com/2022/09/17/saturday-september-29-2012/
“Why the hell not” turned into a series of brief interviews, during which we talked about everything that happened during these last two years. The good folks from Harley asked mom about the experience with cancer, and right away, I think they knew that we weren’t going to be average.
Mom talked about the diagnosis very quickly and the treatment even hastier. She spoke of not wanting to join a support group because, in general, it was a bunch of sick people talking about being sick.
Instead, she wanted to get through it fast and be surrounded by healthy people that reminded her of the future, not the present. The Harley folks were smiling. We talked about how far we were willing to go, even thinking about running to Mexico for coffee enemas and juice therapy. They laughed; they loved that we were laughing together.
They asked me why I started riding, and I wasn’t lying when I pointed at mom and said, “because of this, because of cancer.” I know that was the answer they expected, but as I explained, I hope they knew it was genuine. I had been enamored but highly fearful of motorcycles. Involving myself in the car industry meant I got plenty of adrenaline, but bikes—nope. It wasn’t until mom’s diagnosis that I looked at my list in an old journal titled “things I want to do, but probably won’t, because they’re scary.” So many of them had been checked off, surprising things I couldn’t believe I was actually afraid of, but there were a few that remained. “Ride a motorcycle, ” and a few odd ones here and there about love and my intense fear of commitment. I decided to tackle the motorcycles.
They asked my mom what bikes she liked, and she smirked and remembered the bikes I’d been showing her, rattling off. “Fatboy, Softtail.” Wow. No wonder we were cast.
On Wednesday, we went to Leo Carillo Beach and met the crew of the print ads. They fed us a fantastic breakfast, put us through hair and makeup, put us on a Sportster and shot pictures for about an hour, fed us lunch, and called, “that’s a wrap.” Before we left, the rep from Harley hugged my mother and me and gave us Pink Label riding jackets.
Harley Davidson treated my mother like a superstar.
I have always admired the brand, loved the rumble of a Harley V-Twin, always secretly wished I was a little bigger so I could ride the bigger bikes, and now…I fully respect them more than I could ever put to words appropriately. The people in their ads were real riders, not just pretty (although Holy Christ, they were pretty, too!!). The causes they support aren’t just on paper. Their brand ethos isn’t just marketing.
As for the word ‘cancer’ in our house—it’s not a death sentence, it’s not something we talk about often, and it’s not something we dwell on anymore. As Breast Cancer Awareness month rolls out and everyone sells something pink, we haven’t ever participated. It’s been very under the radar. Now we’re about to be on posters and online and wherever else, the faces of people affected directly by cancer, the faces of a brand all about “pink.” And both of us will now make the exception to wear the color, so long as it’s on our Harley Davidson jackets.
To shop H-D Pink:
Amy Liming 
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