Queens of the road: Camaraderie helps spike number of female motorcyclists

ORLANDO, Fla. -- When Roe Hyer was diagnosed with breast cancer so advanced that doctors gave her only a month to live, the single mom decided to finally start living.

The spunky hairdresser, then 39, was tired of "being a passenger" in life. She moved to Florida, took up bodybuilding and bought a motorcycle -- a metallic blue Suzuki Intruder 800.

Hyer is one of thousands of women across the country finding camaraderie in women's motorcycle clubs. From the Chrome Divas in Columbia, S.C., and the Women on Wheels in Lincoln, Neb., to the Throttle Queens in Landover, Md. and the Motor Maids in Erie, Mich., women are increasingly taking to the open roads.

"I didn't have control of the cancer, there's nothing you can do, so riding is something you have control of," said Hyer, now 54.

Women bikers aren't your stereotypical bar-brawling, tattooed, leather jacket biker chicks. The new wave of female riders are soccer moms, even grandmas, corporate lawyers and nurses with an average income of $55,850, according to the Motorcycle Industry Council.

The number of women who own their own bikes is on the rise -- jumping 36 percent to 635,000 between 1998 and 2003, according to the most recent numbers from the Motorcycle Industry Council, a trade group based in Irvine, Calif.

Manufacturers such as Harley-Davidson and Ultra Motorcycles are capitalizing on the trend, designing bikes with lighter frames, custom fit gears and lower seats.

'Just for women'

"It's pretty much been a men's market, but a lot of ladies really like riding motorcycles and I think they feel left out so that's why we created something just for women," Ultra Motorcycles sales director Dan Houston said of his company's Groundpounder and California Kid models.

At Harley-Davidson, motorcycles sales to women are at an all-time high, jumping from 600 in 1980 to 30,000 in 2005. Women make up about half of new-rider classes on the test track at Harley-Davidson Orlando, said Tony Cianciotto, marketing manager at Harley Orlando.

"I think for so long women have ridden on the back, but nowadays women are very independent," Cianciotto said.

The winding roads offer women an escape from crying babies, stressful jobs and high-maintenance relationships. When Army nurse Edna Valesquez returned from Iraq in 2003, riding helped to melt away horrific memories of wounded troops. Despite her petite 5-foot frame, Valesquez, nicknamed Lil' Bit, rides a 640-pound Harley Low Rider.

"It's a little escape. You can get on those back roads and you just go," said Valesquez, who started the Chrome Divas in August 2005.

Many female riders plan this week to roll up to Daytona Beach's annual Bike Week, which started Friday, to gab with the thousands of fellow bikers from around the country who gather to scope out the merchandise and ride the test tracks.

But there is still a struggle against stereotypes. At Bike Week, some female riders complain that one of the only events specifically involving women is a coleslaw wrestling contest -- which female riders say only serves to perpetuate misconceptions about them. Some, like Janet Barrett of Clermont, won't attend.

"I'm just a 50-year-old Harley riding grandma," said Barrett. "I've gotten very discouraged by the quality of riders that attend Bike Week. I ride to ride."

For many of the women's motorcycle clubs, charity is a central purpose. More than 200 female clubs are listed on the Internet, with groups catering to older riders, Christian riders and black riders. A majority include charity work in their charter.

The Chrome Angels of Central Florida dedicate their fundraising efforts to breast cancer causes, said Jessi Sills, who founded the group after her mother died of breast cancer.

The Sarasota-based Diva Angels, started by Marsha Wolak, has spawned seven chapters with about 150 members, and it has raised funds for dozens of charities, including the National Children's Drug Awareness program, the American Legion, Toys for Tots and Big Brothers/Big Sisters.

"We're here to ride and have fun but we also want to help people less fortunate than ourselves. We wouldn't do one without the other," said Wolak.