Posts Tagged ‘San Francisco Scooter Centre’

On The Road Again

September 9, 2016

Albeit a little chilly for it.

I got my scooter back today.

Hurray!

I researched scooter jackets online last night and resolved that I would wait until I went into the shop and see what they had there, that way, even though it may cost a few bucks more, I would be covered and happy in the chilly night on my commute home.

Except.

Gah.

All they had in my size was a horrid army green and orange jacket.

I mean ew.

I paid for my scooter, $246.81 and scooted out the door.

I just now bought a new pink Corazzo jacket on line.

Fuck it.

I found a cheaper one than what I was looking at last night and hopefully I’ll have it by Monday.

Until then I can layer up.

It wasn’t too bad a ride home though.

I was going to go up to the Slovenian Hall, but once I was going into the wind I realized I really didn’t have enough layers on to make it a comfortable ride, so I just got myself home a little early.

I figure I’ll get up early and do a yoga class before work.

Ah work.

More and more of it is cooking and less and less is with the boys.

I am going to start looking for other avenues.

Less housework, more kids, toddlers, or my preference, babies.

I’ve got with my current family through December.

I’ll spend a little time putting together my resume and updating things.

I don’t really think it will be too hard to find a new position.

In fact, the mom told me when we were talking before I headed out to Burning Man, that if something came up that was of more service to me and my needs to go for it.

The boys are both in school and so much of what I do now is household stuff.

Laundry, dry cleaning, runs to the market.

But!

Oh what an awesome run to the market today.

I ran into a playa friend on the street!

I have never seen him off playa and thought I was hallucinating.

Man, that person looks a lot like…

“Hey!  What are you doing here, I thought you were on your way back to London?!”

We hugged and I met his friends, who were still in Burning Man mode and instead of getting handshakes I got great big hugs.

That was nice.

We chatted and I recommended a restaurant in the hood and then went back to work.

I made gyoza tonight.

My first time making steamed dumplings.

Earlier this week I made spinach, sausage, and mushroom lasagna.

And the usual broccoli soup, sushi rice, oatmeal, and prepped veggies and fruit the family likes.

Which is to say that my job seems to be evolving more and more into a personal chef deal.

On one hand I don’t mind.

On the other, as I was reminded by a friend, “just because you’re good at it, doesn’t mean you have to do it.”

I remember looking out the window at one point today, wistful and a little sad.

It was beautiful, sunny, the skies so blue.

And the boys were with dad doing Legos and mom was doing mom stuff and I was in the kitchen.

I haven’t had a job like this before.

And that’s great.

It’s a new experience.

But.

Man I miss getting outside to the parks.

I did manage to get outside once this week.

Once.

It’s Thursday and I have been out to the park once with the boys.

Remember this feeling, I told myself, as I struggled to make the top bunk on the boys bed–it’s special size and awkward as fuck to fit the sheets on it–remember this feeling, this is not what you want to be doing for work.

I haven’t had many conversations with myself with that amount of clarity.

In fact.

The last time I told myself to remember how bad something felt I was hung over.

I mean.

It’s a bit of a stretch to compare the two things, but I had the exact set of words pop into my head as I did that one time I was staring at myself in the mirror at the house on Potrero and 25th Street.

“Remember how bad this feels,” I admonished myself.

There was more conversation that followed and a phone call from a friend that lead to me cracking a bottle of beer and sipping it in the hallway while I chatted with him.

I wasn’t halfway through that bottle before I was on the other line calling my dealer for a delivery.

I had forgotten the words before they had even dissolved into the bathroom tiles.

I stepped all over them and went my drug addled way to further create some havoc and ruin.

Ah desperation.

It worked though, it wasn’t much longer thereafter that I found myself in a church basement doing the deal.

Even though I had no clue what the deal was, just that this group of people suddenly swooped in and rescued me.

I have to rescue me from this job.

Before I forget and I get lax and I’m not happy and I’m letting go my boundaries again.

I had to hold tight to them today.

It feels like they are already getting pushed and I’ve only been back three days.

So.

Gently.

Putting.

It.

Out.

There.

I am available for a new nanny gig.

Babies preferable.

Parents that don’t work from home.

If it’s a great match I’ll give my current family notice, they will understand that I need to take care of myself as we have already had the conversation.

That being said.

I’ve got the job through the end of December should I want to stay.

I have also had it suggested to me that I can be a personal assistant or some such thing.

I make great broccoli soup.

Heh.

I’ll be looking for close to full time, but it doesn’t need to be 40 hours, 35 will do.

And, yes, I’m in graduate school, so the ask that I received a few weeks ago to work 50-60 is not on the table.

No more than 40 hours please.

And.

Thank you.

Often times putting things out on my blog is my way of working through whatever actions I need to take next in my daily life.

Thank God tomorrow is Friday.

This week has been big and full.

And very.

Very.

Very.

Adult.

I’m ready for some play time.

Seriously.

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Adding Insult

September 8, 2016

To injury.

Gah.

I got up early this morning to deal with the scooter and was actually nicely assuaged by the fellow at San Francisco Scooter Centre when I chatted with him about my scooter getting knocked over and not starting, the busted brake, et al.

He told me to use the other brake, shouldn’t be a problem, ride it on down to the shop and they’d have it fixed up in a jiffy.

Well.

Fuck, that’s nice.

Awesome.

I took a Lyft to the scooter, which I had left parked over night on the street that I work on and pretty much knew that it was worse for when I had left it the minute I was exiting the car.

God damn it.

The back basket had been broken into.

Yes.

I left my fucking Corazzo $250 motorcycle jacket in the basket.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I had spaced it.

I know better, but I was just overwhelmed last night and had marched right on over to the Mission Police Station to file my report.

Also.

Motherfuckers.

The head lamp was stolen.

I mean, clean gone.

I didn’t even know that was something of value to steal.

Enjoy that tasty crack, yo.

Fuck me.

I called Scooter Centre, I told them what had happened and that the scooter would not start at all, I suspect that the wiring had gotten mucked with when the headlamp was ripped out.

The guys were quite kind and helped me with all the things.

I have a two year road side warranty so they sent over a tow truck, free of charge, and I handed off my scooter to Dave, really a sweet old guy, who loaded it up, took my keys, and dropped it off within twenty minutes of having arrived.

He sent me a text that it was delivered to the shop two minutes before I started work.

I made a second trip to the cop shop, as it turns out the theft of parts and the theft of my jacket were separate incidences to the scooter getting rammed into yesterday.

Police report number two did not get fully filed, I didn’t have enough time to do the paperwork and process it there, so I get to do that online tonight.

Or maybe tomorrow in the morning.

I called Scooter Centre this evening around 5:30 p.m. and they said my scooter would be ready by noon tomorrow.

Hopefully so.

I would like to put this all behind and move the fuck on.

I just spent some time on line looking at scooter jackets to replace mine and they are more expensive than I recalled, but I have to say, my jacket was so nice, it was wind proof and sturdy–reinforced elbows and back padding– and I really felt a lot better wearing it than not wearing it.

When I go to pick up the scooter I’m going to see if they have any jackets in my size at the shop.

They carry the brand and though I doubt they have a pink one on hand, I will see if they have something there.

I would rather walk out the shop wearing one than wait for one to come in the post.

Although if they’re too expensive I’ll just get one online.

I found one on sale for $199.

Here’s the jacket I had.

It was pink.

I felt all sorts of Pink Lady tough when I was wearing it.

Also noticeable on my scooter, it’s reflective as well.

I ran into a friend tonight and she asked after my scooter and when I told her that my jacket had been stolen too, she said, “oh no!  Not your pink jacket!”

Yeah.

Unfortunately so.

I thought about it though and realized that I am pretty lucky, even though I was none to happy, especially as I walked over to the Mission Police Station for the second time in twelve hours, I was going to the cop shop voluntarily.

I was not arrested for anything.

I had not hurt anyone.

Further.

I wasn’t hurt.

Yes.

My fucking pocket book is taking a beating, but so it goes.

The same police officer that I made the initial report to was there and we chatted, she was super kind and helpful and though I left still upset, I was soothed fairly quickly.

Things just don’t always go the exact way I want them to.

But.

They do happen for a reason and I’m willing to have surrendered to taking cars for the last two nights to get home.

I get to do that.

It’s a nice perk of urban living.

Granted.

The two young tech start up Millennials that were chatting about Body Rok and their tech start up dating app were obnoxious to listen too, (I wanted to smack both of them in their young, white, wealthy privilege, they weren’t racist, but man they were super ageist and the lilting over high voice of the young woman was so grating to listen to I wanted to shake her and ask her to speak with her real voice) I was still grateful to be in a car, heading home out by the beach, with the window rolled down, the feeling of the wind refreshing and brisk and summery.

For San Francisco.

Over heard in the park today.

“It’s just too fucking hot, I can’t do anything.”

haha.

It was 80 degrees.

That is not too hot, although it feels like a heat wave when just a few weeks ago it was foggy and about thirty degrees cooler.

The summer does seem to be here.

Which is nice since I have a date Sunday to go for a hike in Glen Canyon.

Heh.

That was unexpected.

And wouldn’t have come to fruition if I hadn’t been on my phone yesterday in the car on the way home from the scooter snafu.

So.

Even though it was not my plan, my idea, or my desire to have a night off from the scooter, it did precipitate some actions that led to me getting asked out on a date.

More about that later.

Or not.

I’m not too certain I want to share any details right now.

Suffice to say.

I’m excited and said date falls within the parameters of the type of men I want to be dating.

My scooter will be running by that point.

Heck.

It will be running tomorrow.

I’ll be skipping yoga to go get it, but hey, luxury problems, like I said.

My life is rich and full and surprising.

And.

Wonderful.

Even when I have things that were lost.

They’re just things.

The best things in life.

I remind myself often.

Aren’t.

Things.

Super Bummed

September 7, 2016

Like really bummed.

But.

Not hurt.

Although I am anticipating my legs and knees are going to be sore tomorrow.

Sigh.

My scooter got smacked down today.

I left work this evening eager to hop on it and scoot out of the neighborhood and go catch up with some fellows in a church basement.

But.

‘Twas not to be.

I noticed something was off with it right away.

It was canted funny, like it wasn’t sitting on its’ kickstand right.

Then.

I realized the right mirror was busted.

Oh fuck.

I tried to right it, but it was tilted at an off angle and the tire was locked, I had my kryptonite wheel lock attached to it.

I slipped off the wheel lock and rocked it forward.

It was definitely not right.

I tried to start it.

Oh fuck.

The left hand brake was broken.

So.

Some one ran into it, tipped it over, banged it pretty hard and then picked it up and drove off.

No note.

Thanks buster.

I suspect you will get your comeuppance.

I don’t have to hate on you, you know what you did.

I was pretty upset.

Mostly because I just wanted to get out of Dodge.

I went back to my job, hoping that maybe they had caught something on camera, but the scooter was parked just a little too far back for their cameras to have caught anything.

I called the SF Police non-emergency number and was told I had to come down to the station and make a report.

Ugh.

So, a bit teary, tired, and frustrated, I trotted over to the Mission police station.

Thankful, really, that I work only three blocks away from the station.

It could have been a lot worse.

Plus.

I can leave my scooter where it is for the next couple of days while I figure out what to do next–my childcare parking permit will let me stay parked for up to 72 hours in the same spot.

I suspect I will be making a call to Scooter Centre in the morning.

I have a two year service warranty, not that it will necessarily cover this, but I believe it includes road side assistance, I should be able to get it towed to the shop in the morning without having to shell out money.

I got the accident report filled out so I can file with my insurance.

It’s all just a big pain in the ass, really.

I wasn’t on my scooter, I didn’t get hurt, it’s not smashed to smithereens, I have insurance.

It comes down to inconvenience and well, hey, I got a bike, I can ride it to work tomorrow and deal with it.

I will skip the yoga class I was going to do before work tomorrow and just get right on getting things straightened out.

Ultimately, I got over being upset pretty quick.

I am super grateful that I wasn’t hit, that I am ok, that my body doesn’t have a scratch.

Just a wet mark from a few tears sliding down my face.

Mostly out of frustration, but even in the frustration I could see that I was going to be alright, it’s just a thing, I didn’t lose anything, maybe a little bit of time that I would have preferred to have spent on other things.

I am also laughing, a little, I just fucking had it serviced!

Literally, on Friday, while I was in school, I dropped $300 to make sure it was all up and running and doing good.

Le sigh.

And moving on.

I got to yoga this morning.

Wowzers.

It’s been a minute.

I was not as bad off as I was afraid and the teacher was a new instructor I have not had before, she had us do a lot of stuff, but I didn’t feel like I was ever going to die in the class, like I have before when I have had different instructors and I am not used to their teaching style.

In fact, she was the best possible re-entry to my practice.

It was a small class, Labor Day weekend, Burning Man, I suspect many folks still are getting de-dusted, and it was nice to ease back in gently.

I came home after class, drank a gang of water, took a hot shower, ate some nice breakfast, drank some fresh brewed coffee, wrote three pages long hand and had enough time left over that I ran my numbers for August and did my September spending plan.

I’m ok on the money.

This is what I’m telling myself.

I don’t know exactly how insurance stuff works, but I suspect that I will be paying out of pocket to get my scooter repaired and then getting reimbursed through my insurance company.

Grateful I know that I have the funds to deal with it.

I also will get a small amount of money after my student loans are disbursed to pay my tuition this month.

So.

Yeah.

A bit of a hassle, some time suck, but overall, no big shakes.

Luxury problems, yo.

I’m so much calmer now that I’m home and have some hot tea going into my body.

I was also thinking when I was getting a ride home from the Lyft car I pinged, how lucky am I?

I have a phone, I hit a button, called a car, got a ride home.

I live in San Francisco.

I have an awesome bicycle in the garage and no shortage of ways to get back to work.

I repeated, to myself, I am ok.

I was not hurt.

I was no where near it when it was hit.

I am safe.

There really is nothing wrong.

It’s a nice mental place to be in.

Sure.

I’m not looking forward to dealing with it tomorrow, but I don’t have to be at work until 1p.m.

I have the time to spare to deal with it.

And deal with it I shall.

There was a reason it happened and I don’t have to know why, I don’t even have to be upset that the person who hit it didn’t leave a note, that’s on them, and I bet it sticks with them.

My conscience is clear and I won’t have a problem dropping off tonight.

And I suspect, more will be revealed.

Maybe I was supposed to be slowed down this week.

Who knows.

I’m safe.

That’s all that’s important.

That and making another cup of tea.

And watching Mr. Robot.

The rest of it can all wait for the morning.

Night y’all.

 


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