Posts Tagged ‘motorcycle safety course’

I Am Cold

February 23, 2014

Actually, the thought exactly was, “Jesus, God, I am cold.”

“Really cold, really fucking cold, god damn it, I am cold, when is this going to be done?”

I took the first part of the Motorcycle Safety Course skills class today at City College Phelan Campus in the huge parking lot behind the school.

I got there early.

I was ready to go.

I am glad I got there early too, although, a bit chagrined, I got there over an hour early, the MUNI was far quicker than I suspected it would be.  I am almost compelled to rethink it for tomorrow, though I won’t.

MUNI on a Sunday is notorious for being off schedule.

I will probably keep to exactly the time schedule that I gave myself for today, allowing for the longer transfer points to happen.

I took the N-Judah up to 9th and Irving, then caught the 43 Masonic out to City College.

I hopped off into unknown territory.

I really don’t get out to this neighborhood much and it does not feel at all like San Francisco to me.

The day was warm, bright, clear, and I could hear the motorcycles in the distance.

The morning class was in its final hours.

Imagine.

The morning class role call was for 6:45a.m.

No thank you.

I watched for a while from the top of the parking lot as the cycles wheeled in circles and weaved through the cones.

I am going to be doing that soon.

Really soon.

I am not going to freak out, just go down to the parking lot.

But it was sort of amazing to stand there and watch the cycles run through their paces, I have been contemplating taking this course since I moved to San Francisco and heard that such a course was available.

Eleven years ago.

Sometimes slowly.

Motorcycle Safety Class

Motorcycle Safety Class

I made my way over to storage container that was the field office and checked in with the woman dashing about with the clip board.

There were three other folks there already, turns out they were standby’s hoping to get into the class.

Still sort of amazed I was able to get in when I did, apparently my wait time for the class was nil.  Everyone I spoke with said they had to reserve out weeks or months in advance.

Lucky me.

It just really all has fallen together.

There were three standby’s already registered, waiting, and keeping their fingers crossed.  In the next half hour there were seven.  The woman with the clip board at first assumed I was one too, but when I told her I was an official enrolled class member with the paperwork and the class time done, she sighed with relief and told me to pick out a helmet.

It turns out that even with all the hair, my size is a small.

Helmet

Helmet

I got my helmet and sat in the shade, the day started out warm, watching the other class finish up their course, and trying to not show amazement at the amount of people who showed up with out the proper riding gear.

This person was in tennis shoes.

That person wasn’t wearing long sleeves.

Three different people either did not have gloves or had the wrong kind–fingerless bicycle gloves.

Do people pay any attention?

Five hours of class time previous to the outside skills and I cannot tell you how many times the instructor said what we would need to do the riding part.

Including numerous times it is mentioned in the course work book, the internet site, and the paperwork that you fill out in class.

The class provides you with the motorcycle or scooter and a helmet.

You have to wear denim jeans (or in the case of one young man a full on leather riding suit, he looked like he was from some movie still), boots that cover your ankles, and gloves, ones that were full fingered leather.

I watched a woman have a near cat fight about the gloves her boyfriend was trying to wear–fingerless bicycle gloves–with the instructor who was checking her in.

The woman deflected and said, “I hear you, however, this decision is not mine to make, the issue is the insurance for the class and there are no exceptions.”

Lucky for the boyfriend, someone had a spare set of gloves that he was able to wear.

The other folks though, turned away.

Opening up some room for the standbys.

In the end, there were also a few no shows, so all seven of the standbys actually got to ride.

And I got a scooter.

Oh, I know, I hear you already, you should have ridden a motorcycle.

But I didn’t have it in me.

I just didn’t and I wasn’t going to force myself to ride the motorcycle when I just wanted to learn on the scooter, since, I am getting a scooter.  I can always ask to be shown how to do the cycle, I suspect that after having been through today and whatever tomorrow will bring, I will have a great upper hand when the time, if it should arrive, comes for me to ride a motorcycle.

I mentioned that I had attempted to call in and reserve a scooter and wouldn’t you know it, they were all gone.

The instructor looked over the roll call sheet and said I was in luck, turns out two folks that had reserved the scooters had not checked in.

I was ready to learn on the cycle, I was there, if I needed to, but I am really glad I asked after the scooter.

It was more than enough for my left right up is down goofy brain to get the hang of the scooter.

I zoned out a few times listening to information that was not pertinent to my experience with riding and got to play follow the leader when ever I wasn’t sure what was happening.

And oh.

Yes.

I had fun.

“This is fun!” I shouted inside as I gleefully slid through the air with my feet up, the throttle open and I was flying along.

I had actually not expected it to be fun.

I think not having to stress about figuring out the shifting for a motorcycle was a big part of that, I relaxed and had fun.

Until the fog came in and smothered the sun.

Until the wind picked up and oh boy did it get cold fast.

I was shaking and shivering in moments.

And I was dressed for San Francisco weather, there were quite a few folks that were not as adequately attired.  I cannot imagine the last hour of class was any fun for them either.

I was freezing.

I realized as we finally wrapped up a little beyond the end time that class was promised, that I had been outside for nearly seven hours and that I was not moving like I do on my bike.

I was moving with the vehicle.

I was not generating any body heat through movement.

Aha.

I am going to have dress differently when I get my Vespa, more layers will be needed.

I am cool with that.

Because I can see myself getting on the Vespa now.

I can see getting my licence now as a reality, not just a fantasy.

I passed the written test.

I did all that was asked of me today and I know I will be able to pass the skills test tomorrow.

One more set of actions down.

One step closer to street legal.

 

 

Oh the pain

February 22, 2014

“I’m gonna work on your quads,” she said to me.

I could almost hear imaginary knuckles being popped.

Oh holy mother of god.

She worked on my quads.

I used the last gift certificate for massage today that I was given for the holidays—I received one for Thanksgiving, one for my birthday, and one for Christmas.

The one I used this early evening was for an hour and a half.

I can’t believe I am actually going to say this, but it was almost too much time.  I felt a little sick toward the end of it.  Like nauseous, sort of sick.

However, I am glad for the bodywork, loosened me up for tomorrow.

I am scared, excited, nervous, a little bit of it all.

The skills portion of the Motorcycle Safety Course is tomorrow and Sunday.  Five hours each day.  And I realized just few minutes ago that I was going to be taking the bus out there.

I keep thinking I am going to ride my bicycle.

Then I remembered that I need to be in boots and I don’t want to ride my bike in knee-high leather harness boots.

Gross.

I cannot even begin to imagine pedaling five and a half miles in leather harness boots.

So, I will be getting out the door quite a bit sooner than I had planned.

It’s not the worst thing in the world and too, I was thinking that maybe after five hours in the sun and riding around on a motorcycle (I tried to reserve a scooter, but they were already gone) that perhaps I won’t want to get on my bicycle and ride 5 and a half miles back to the house.

I might just be punked out from the day.

My normal Saturday night commitment was cancelled, so I am clear on my timing, but I realized, that I may not be able to get to my Sunday commitment and I am going to have to find someone to cover for that, especially since I have the key to the facility.

Yikes.

I kept hoping I would run into someone today.

I am going to have to make some phone calls and see if I can pass off the key Sunday morning.  I certainly won’t be able to make it to Church and Market by 6:30 p.m. on Sunday, unless the class finishes earlier than I was led to believe it would.

I don’t think that’s happening, though.

I get the impression from every one that I have spoken to about it, that it will be a full day.

And too, I want to make sure that I am comfortable doing all the skills.

I am moving forward.

Through the discomfort, doing the deal.

“Ugh,” I cried into the phone, earlier today, “does this ever go away?”

“Nope,” John Ater said to me, “but you’ll see it sooner and sooner and eventually you may stop acting on the thoughts and the feelings.”

“Fuck your feelings anyway, they are wrong.”  Ater continued with a dry chuckle, “anything else?”

God yes.

Of course.

There’s always something else.

I wouldn’t be whom I am, human, if there wasn’t anything else.

But as I sailed around on my bicycle today, during the nicest Friday afternoon weather, that I was totally fine exactly where I was, riding my bicycle to the Noriega Produce market, to stock up on fruits and veggies.

There won’t be a break to leave the facility and the instructor made that very clear on Wednesday, if we wanted food and beverages, we would have to bring them ourselves.

Check.

Check too, the leather gloves in my bag, full bottle of water in my Sig container, washing the jeans, full-length jacket, and helmet (though I may leave the helmet here since they provide ones at the class—one less thing to carry on the bus), and the paperwork from Wednesday’s class.

Not too certain I need it, but I will be reading over the handbook again just to refresh my memory on everything.

Ah.

A new adventure.

So many new adventures to be had.

I notice all the scooters scooting around and wonder where I will go first.

Probably around the block.

A drive along the ocean?

To the grocery store!

Up the great big hill at the Friday gig I do in the Castro.

I am not certain that I will always ride the scooter to work, but when I do Friday’s in the Castro, I just might.

That hill is a big one, up there, 19th between Noe and Sanchez.

Great view.

Steep as all get out.

I haven’t bothered to even try riding up it.

I just get off and push the bike up.

I could ride around it, head all the way up to 18th and Castro, swing left, and turn up 19th, the hill is more gradual, but I would still be doing a lot of work and probably still walking it up to a certain point.

Yeah, the scooter will be nice for that.

Or no more train rides late Saturday night.

Nope, no thank you, I won’t mind not having to do that.

Nerves are easing up a little more.

The excitement for the adventure is happening.

I was reflecting earlier today that there is a lot of change happening in my life and that there will continue to be a lot of change happening in my life and that most of it is good, in fact, all of it is good (that whole perspective thing really helps) and that my capacity to accept change is changing.

“Honey, I have been telling you this for years,” John finished with me on the phone.

It’s true, he has.

Some of it is actually starting to sink in.

At least I see myself walking through the discomfort a bit faster now then before.

Soon I will be, shall we say, scooting through it.

Here’s to change!

Chin chin.

Scoot, scoot.

Back to Work

February 21, 2014

Of course, back to work, early rising, after a late night getting in from the Motorcycle Safety Course.

Of course a 7 a.m. wake up.

That’s how it goes.

But it was good to be back to work and good to feel a little grounded and good to see my girl Thursday.

We had an awesome day and she threw herself at me when I showed up this morning.

Who doesn’t want to be greeted with an all out body hug on their way into the start of a long day at work?

I also picked up a half day tomorrow.

I had checked in earlier this week and it did not look like one of the families was going to be back in time to need me Friday, but they had a change of plans and asked if I could help out with a half day tomorrow.

Just 12:30p.m.-3:30p.m.

Perfect timing.

Not too early, so I can sleep in, I shall get back on my sleep schedule, I shall, but until then a little extra tomorrow will feel lovely.  I have had a low-grade head ache all day long and want to kill it before the skills portion of the motorcycle class this weekend.

I suspect it is a stress headache, and I really want to nip it before it becomes anything else.

I have a history of stress aggravated migraines.

I am pretty good with managing it, but not always, and the amount of information I had down loaded into my brain sort of hurt, like my brain was stretching.

Stress.

Learning new things can be stressful.

However, I realized today, in a brief moment of absolute clarity, that it does not matter if I fail the course.  As long as I show up for it there is no failing.  The whole point of taking the course is to learn.

I show up, I am going to learn.

Even if I fail I would be learning.

And if I fail it does not mean that I won’t be able to get my license.

Hell, there were two guys at the table last night who already had their permits and neither of them had even been on a scooter yet (nor I, truth be told, except for on the back of one riding around with various friends).  There was also a guy there who’s been riding for over 8 years without a licence, he just keeps renewing his permit.

I will be riding.

I will be learning.

And I don’t need to get stressed out about it.

I feel like I have also been a little stressed about the financials, the big utility bill i wasn’t expecting, taking on a new bill–$200 a month may not seem like much but it is an additional outlay of funds–for the scooter, as well as realizing that basically my rent went up about $100 for the month.

I am taking an average of what the bill’s supposed to look like over the course of the year.

I still need to sit down with my land lord and see how she came to the figures, I need to do so calmly and rationally, like an adult, but basically, in the brief interaction we have had since the utility bomb, it was pointed out that an average would be $102 for each month.

So, yeah, just more bills, more living, more expensive San Francisco.

Which also made me happy to be back at work.

If I am working I am not spending as much money and the income is coming in rather than flowing out.

That is not to say that it doesn’t need to flow out.

I had to put the down payment on the scooter.  My friend had other people interested and I would be a fool to not hook it up.  He cut me a way fair price and to be able to make monthly payments is really awesome.

If I was getting a scooter elsewhere I don’t know that it would have happened as fortuitously with my work and income.

I don’t want to be grasping onto the money I have coming in, I don’t want to be tight-fisted.

Smart yes.

Wise about my decisions.

But not penny-pinching.

I don’t want to deny myself a nice standard of living because I am in some sort of financial stress.

Good thing I have another back rub tomorrow.

I just booked it up immediately.

I did not want to wait another two months to get in.

Tomorrow’s session was the Christmas gift from my employers and it’s for an hour and a half long massage.

Yes please.

I might fall asleep on the table.

She’s that good.

Tough, hard-core pressure, deep tissue manipulation, I was sore in my shoulder for a couple of days, but also really good, and she promised to help with the tightness I experience in my hips from the constant bicycle riding and life in general.

She believes that it is part of the problem with the rhomboid strain.

The strain that is not yet fully healed.

It’s not a constant thought in my brain like it was when the injury occurred, but it’s still there, humming a long at a low vibration of pain and annoyance.

Maybe my shoulder is having a growth spurt.

Ha.

Easing back into the routine.

Knowing it will be ok.

Since there is nothing wrong, there is no perfection that I must seek, and I have a roof over my head,  a place to lay my head, and food to eat in the morning.  A job to go to, a lady to have coffee with and share my experience, strength, and hope, and yes, a lovely massage to end the day with.

I really can’t ask for better preparation then that for this weekends skills course.

It’s all going to be fine.

Because it already is.

If You’re Uncomfortable

February 20, 2014

Then you know you’re doing the right thing.

She told me this earlier this evening as I was gearing up to head out to the Motorcycle Saftey Course on Folsom and 18th at the San Francisco Motorcycle Club.

Discomfort means I am growing, she continued, you’re doing just fine.

Grr.

Well, there’s that then.

I guess that a nicer way to say discomfort is to say growth.

I grew a bit today then.

Actually, over the last week, a lot.

Asking for things that make me uncomfortable, growing toward a richer life, a more abundant and prosperous one in which I take care of myself and do the necessary, uncomfortable, holy shit, actions to do so.

Finding out that I don’t have work on Friday.

Which precipitated me asking to be paid for this week and also outlining that should I be asked to work Friday’s in the future I have to be compensated if I hold them and they are not used.

If I am going to really embrace being a professional, career nanny, if I am going to stop looking for the next wunderkind career that is going to make me (can anyone spell fantasy?) I need to act like a professional.

A therapist will charge for a cancelled appointment, so to a doctor, even restaurants ask for a credit card to hold a reservation.

I need to do the same.

And after some writing.

I did.

It was fine, of course, all the crap, just crap in my head.

Still uncomfortable with having Friday off, as I have been uncomfortable having most of this week off.

Of course, ironic, I am working tomorrow after having a late night out in the city.

“The class will go until 10 p.m. tonight, or there about, depending on how quickly we get through the material,” said the instructor this evening.

Shit.

I was expecting a few hours, but I was not expecting  four hours of class time.

Ugh.

It was all necessary, I can see that, and I learned a lot, I did, I did.

I also learned that I am more nervous about taking the class then I thought I was and that it too will be something to walk through, that is, the actual skills portion.

I know about street awareness from being on my bicycle, but all the other stuff about a motorcycle threw me into a little bit of a panic.

I like the idea of learning it, but I don’t like the idea of failing it.

Then I think.

What if I did?

So what?

I just go get the permit and I take the skills test at the DMV.

Passing the class will insure that I don’t have to take the riding test and completion of it will also allow me to skip getting a permit.

Seven to ten business days after I finish the skill class on Sunday, I will receive my certificate of completion.  At that point then I go to the DMV and take the written test.

I have to also get insurance and then I am on the road.

So, I am still looking at a bit of time on my bicycle.

Which, truth be told, thrilled me with its simplicity tonight.

Granted I was not thrilled to be riding from Folsom and 18th out to 46th and Irving, but I didn’t need to think about shifting and down shifting and clutch and brake and swerving and curves and…

I also realize that I did have to learn a lot of things on my bicycle and those things were not always comfortable to learn.

The first time getting on a bicycle in San Francisco.

The first time I rode clipless on a touring bike.

The first time I rode fixed gear.

I had to learn to get through the discomfort.

I never fell in my clipless, but I had more than a few close calls when I was almost unable to unclip my shoes from my pedals before dismounting.

I never fell from my bike riding in fixed gear, but I felt out of control for a while and I don’t believe I shall ever forget how scared I was the first time I went down a big hill in fixed gear, that was an experience.

But I showed up, walked, or as the case may be, rode, through the experience, learned, grew.

Discomfort=growth.

That is what I have to remind myself of again and again.

If I am uncomfortable I am having a growth spurt.

I will be a little uncomfortable getting up early tomorrow after all the days of sleeping in, but up I shall get, and it will be nice to have a day of work, to know where to show up and how.

I realized today that I really like routine, it makes me feel like I am in control.

But that is a false idea, I am aware more so than, I believe, I ever have been, that though routine provides comfort, in my experience, that comfort can lull me into a false sense of well-being.

I will get used to things being a certain way.

Being single.

Not earning enough to thrive, but just enough to survive.

Over packing my schedule so that I don’t have time to have feelings.

Or isolating through being busy.

If I am busy working I am too busy to see you.

Or you.

Or you.

It’s uncomfortable putting myself out there to date.

It’s uncomfortable asking for what I need.

Shit.

Most times I don’t even allow myself to see what I need, to let myself become aware of my needs as been a journey of discomfort.

See six months in Paris.

I was looking at the photograph of me and the Vespa from yesterday, which has not failed to thrill me every time I view it, and I realized, again, that my life is so much fuller and more realized than when I was in Paris.

That it can and will become even more so here.

I had to go to see what I can become here.

I allow myself to be uncomfortable.

I am teachable.

I am growing.

Thus allowing myself a more fully realized life.

Bringing joy to myself and others.

That’s the whole point of growth anyhow.

Uncomfortable or not.

I have to do it.

ALL THE TIME.

But hey, I’m not complaining.

Just pointing out the obvious need.

For me anyhow.

I don’t speak for anyone else.

I have enough on my plate with myself.

Thanks, I will have the growth with a side of humility, mashed discomfort, and change.

Got that?

Great!

Pass the salt please.

What?

Don’t tell me you didn’t know that?

Discomfort tastes so much better if lightly salted.

Everything does, really.

Feels Like Vacation

February 18, 2014

How’s the time off been going?

An acquaintance asked me this evening as I wheeled my bike across the intersection at 7th and Irving.

“I slept until noon,” I said, the awe apparent in the tone of my voice.  “I wore my slippers until I came up here on my bike, about um, oh, fifteen minutes ago.”

I had gotten dressed, yes, but I did not leave the house until almost 6p.m. this evening.

These things happen when I don’t go to bed until 4a.m.

Yup.

That’s about how long it took for me to write last night’s blog, unwind, and get myself to bed.

Getting up at noon, though an extreme time difference from my usual hours, was not all that crazy–I got 8 hours–but not really packing in anything to said day was the difference.

I sent my housemate a message about not having gotten in until late, let’s reschedule our utility talk for another time (which we pretty much addressed already anyhow) and took a really long hot shower to get myself going.

But, not going too far.

When I think of all the energy I expended last night, riding to and from the club, three plus hours of solid dancing, it makes sense for me to have laid low.

I was recuperating and I didn’t have anywhere to be until 6:30 p.m. so I let myself, well, chill the fuck out.

My only regret was that I had not picked up a book yesterday when I had a moment in between this place and that place and had gone in to Aardvark Books to ramble through the aisles.

I could have used a book to curl up with.

Yeah, there is a book here that I could have been reading, but I was not in that kind of place for it.

I do hope to be in that space on Wednesday.

I have plans to hang out with a friend tomorrow and I think we will probably cruise around all day, maybe check out his scooter, drink a good bit of coffee and play some bones.

Dominoes that is.

Wednesday, then, seems the day.

The day I told myself, hey, lady, why don’t you pick up the manuscript your friend so kindly printed off and edited for you laborious page by laborious page, and give it a read.

I am prompted to do this because it stares at me when I walk by it, taunting me to pick it up, come on, what are you afraid of.

I am afraid it is shit and not worth the effort is what I am.

Yet, pick it up I will.

I am also inspired by a good friend of mine who has been sending me his short stories and asking me for editing suggestions.

I have read drafts of each of the stories, made comments, asked for him to not use adverbs, pesky little fuckers those, and to clarify what I as a reader am feeling or hearing or not understanding.

His stories have gotten better and better and he’s sending them out.

I want to be doing that as well.

I could not get myself to address any of that today and I was alright with that.

Fun needed to be had yesterday.

Fun was had.

Recuperation from said fun had to be done as well.

It was also a holiday for the housemate’s daughter  and there was general melee in the house as a play date with twin five-year olds and a little two and a half-year old galloped about the upstairs.

No way was I going to have the quiet to do what I wanted to do.

One of them jumped on something so hard or off something or slammed something, who knows what it was, but as I was sitting on the chaise I heard the bang then watched as the reverberation from it shook a glass jar out of my dish drainer and saw it crash to the floor.

Yeah.

Not really the day to sit and read my memoir.

Tomorrow neither as it really is a rare thing for me to have the same day off as my friend who typically works weekends, so Wednesday, when school is back in and I am back to or heading into my typical work schedule (I am on for Thursday, possibly Friday as well, though I am waiting to hear back about that), then I shall sit and read.

I suspect I won’t like what I am reading.

However, I get to honor my process and not judge it and just do it.

Every little action a step forward with it.

I just made a notation in my calendar and scheduled myself the afternoon to read it.

Five hours should be enough to kick through it.

I just want to read it and let myself soak in it.

I can go back over it with a fine tooth comb later.

Then I have the Motorcycle Safety Course in the evening.

I will have a day of study on Wednesday.

I know that I can beat myself up about not moving forward with the writing or the stories or what piece am I working on.  But I realize, with certainty, that I am doing a big part of what is going to make my book a better book by this daily practice of writing.

I am the type of person who works during their “vacation”.

Keeps me sane and happy.

Sure, I was a bit of a sloth today, but I still wrote my morning pages, a few extra then the typical three since I had the day to do so, I did a good meditation, I ate some homemade soup, did some laundry, did some service, and sat down to do this blog.

It’s all about the balance for me.

I don’t need to swim frantically to keep a float, but I do need to keep a gentle pace going, even when I have some down time.

Most especially then, it would seem.

But vacation it did feel like and slippers were had.

What’s nice for me to realize is that I don’t have to justify the down time to anyone, just myself, and ever more and more, not even to me.

That is the best vacation of all.

It’s Your Scooter

February 5, 2014

And I’ll cry if I want to.

Wait.

What?

Ha.

My friend basically said it’s yours, and we worked out a plan of attack on how I will be paying for it, nothing set completely in stone, but 95 % a go.

It’s a vintage black Vespa.

VESPA.

VINTAGE.

BLACK.

I don’t think I need to put sexy in caps, but I just might.

SEXY.

Yes, that too.

Eek.

So.

Excited.

I also just registered to take the Bay Area Motorcycle course, it’s the course that the San Francisco Police Department sanctions, so I won’t have to take the driving part of the test, I can complete the course, take the written exam and bam!

I will be scooting through town.

My friend suggested that all I needed to do was some practice and then just get the permit from the DMV.

I weighed the pros and cons of that.

I have loads of experience being on the road on my bicycle, I am aware of the traffic laws (painfully so since I just got that ticket on my bicycle), I know about hand signals and traffic conditions, how slick the roads get when it’s not necessarily raining, but just foggy and misty.

My gut says take the course, though, I think I will be a lot more comfortable doing it.

I just reserved my class spot and paid for the course a few minutes ago.

I will be sitting in the class room Wednesday night, February 19th, then taking the riding curriculum that Saturday and Sunday, the 22nd and 23rd.

My friend and I have not confirmed sale of the Vespa or when I will get it, but basically he said it’s mine.

And the terms he laid out for it were truly tight.

I can put a down payment on it and I can make payments.

I am still sticking money into my savings account for a laptop, that is nowhere near off the burner, but since my friend is being generous with the time frame and he trusts me to pay him.

“I think what really firmed it for me, not to say that you’re not a person of you word, is when you told me you had paid back Barnaby the money for the plane ticket back from Paris,” he told me over the phone tonight as I gleefully clapped my hands at the idea of going grocery shopping on a motorized vehicle.

Yup.

I paid that money back four months sooner than Barnaby had asked me to and full in cash.

I am a person of my word and that feels really good.

I will probably end up giving my friend a little more than the down payment he asked for and I will try to pay it off faster than the terms he gave me.

I like the idea of having that all settled.

We will be meeting for coffee soon and I will be hopping in the driver’s seat.

And this is not a sale unseen.

I know the scooter.

I was actually with him the first time he saw it and I have ridden on the back of it a few times.

He also is a gear head kind of guy.

It’s in total top shape and worth more than what he is willing to part with it.

I am a lucky, lucky girl.

Rally!

I think that’s what you say.

Heh.

I had this crazy fear pop up today when I was riding my bicycle into work.

Not that I would get hit on the scooter or hurt or that I wouldn’t be able to navigate it or afford it.

Nope.

My worry, if you will, was that I would not be getting as much exercise.

Really?

That’s the best you can do brain?

Ha.

I raise you one scooter and say I can take yoga classes anywhere in the city now.

Not that I couldn’t walk up the street either to the studio two blocks away anyhow.

I may miss the exercise of being on a bicycle, but that is getting ahead of myself and frankly I won’t miss the wear and tear to my body or my knees.

This is all in the future and not of my fucking concern.

Just have to take the next steps in front of me.

Which is basically, show up for the class and pass it.

Then go take the written test at the DMV.

I will need to get insurance as well.

I will need to talk to my landlord, although, having done so prior to this blog, she’s already aware that I was really contemplating taking the course.

Fact is I have been contemplating it for years.

Years.

Like ever since I moved to San Francisco.

Sometimes quickly.

Sometimes slowly.

Life is unfolding in some really nice little ways and this is just another way I say yes to being here, yes to San Francisco, yes to being a career nanny, yes to living my life.

My very sexy life with my very sexy scooter.

I am just going to keep saying sexy.

Riding gloves, leather, black, I mean, come on, Italian vintage scooter, me with my tattoos perched on the saddle, got to say I like the image.

I also like the way that I know it will open up my experience of San Francisco and I will be able to do more, get around more, literally cover more ground.

I will get to see the city in a way I never have.

I like this embracing life and abundance thing, it’s working.

Even when I have a hard day at work.

Oof.

And today was a shit storm.

Literally.

And a puke storm.

Literally again.

Poor kid.

But I got through, he got through, laundry was washed, two loads, stroller was hosed down, literally, I had to take it to the back yard and hose off the vomit from it, faces cleaned, little bodies wiped and bathed and lotion’ed right back to perfection.

Anyway, no need to dwell in the poop.

I have better things to think about, like how big of a helmet am I going to need to get to shove all my hair under.

Giggle.

 

 


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