Adventures in motorcycling

In case you missed the recent news flash, I am now the proud owner of a brand new 2013 Suzuki Burgman 400. What's that? It s a big, beautiful, fully automatic scooter! I looks like a badass bike. So far, I've only ridden her twice, thanks to some truly horrible weather over the long weekend. It's been fun and nerve wracking. Definitely nothing like riding a bicycle, which, by the way, I've not done any of since moving to Newfoundland. Bicycling can be done while wearing nothing more than the clothes you wear around the house. Riding motorcycle requires a few more articles of clothing. 

Helmet. Think "diving helmet" and you come close to the feeling of confinement. It allows limited visibility, which I'm sure is unintentional. Frequent fogging, which comes along with breathing inside the confining helmet in cool weather. Limited range of movement of your head, restricted pretty much to swiveling from side to side within the range of your jacket collar. Ducking your head results in an abrupt thump onto your chest. Of course, the main feature of this important piece of riding equipment is the protection it affords your melon, should you meet the pavement abruptly.

Riding jacket. Mine is black cordura with a quilted lining. For a wonder, the sleeves reach my wrists. Padded and armored, this piece of essential bike wear affords wind protection and pavement abrasion protection, should I inadvertently take a slide. The jacket is large enough in the body that I can wear an extra layer of warm clothing, ie two shirts and a sleeveless vest. Or my wonderful heated vest, which plugs into the bike's system and keeps me as toasty as any marshmallow would want.

Riding pants. Also black cordura with a quilted lining. This is the only piece of equipment that I really despise wearing. Not that I don't want butt and leg protection! No no! I like that aspect of it! Protection of my tender bod is paramount in my mind. It's just that the damn pants weren't made with a 6-ft tall, fully curved chick in mind. So, they're short, riding up higher than my lovely leather boots, and the armored bits that are there for the protection of my knees are sitting halfway up the caps and gouging into my thighs. Not conducive to ease of movement. Also not good is the fact that the slightly tapered legs are slightly tapered in the wrong spot for someone with my thigh size. Wtf does that mean? It means that raising my legs onto the bike requires a near-Herculean effort, made stressful by the fact that the ground is rolling along at the same time you're trying to get your feet onto the bike, causing some degree of wobbling while trying to "feel" your way onto the pegs. (In the case of the scooter, the floorboard.) I hate those pants. I'm gonna try to find me some tall person pants with allowance for bigger thighs and generous booty.

Leather Boots. The boots are good. They started off stiff and rigid, but have softened nicely so they're quite comfy. Double zipped and higher than my ankles, they are pretty awesome. They won't win any beauty prizes, but I've had to walk in them, and while I feel a bit like a Stormtrooper extra, they'll do just fine.

Riding gloves. Cordura, padded with armour bits. More flexible than they were when new, they're worn in to the point where I can now make a pseudo fist with ease, which means I have no trouble reaching my fingers over my brakes quickly and smoothly.

How long does it take me to dress for biking? Um... Five minutes or so?

May long weekend. Three days off! Riding! Wheee! Um... No. Friday was the only day it wasn't completely pissing rain. Since I only have my learner's permit for motorcycling, I have to ride with a fully licensed buddy. That buddy can be riding a motorcycle or driving a car. Doesn't matter. As long as they are with me. Lol... My support team of one! Paul led me up our road to the intersection at Torbay and signaled a right turn. My support team member was starting to worry me already. My unspoken hope of doing drills to familiarize myself with the bike in the relative safety of the parking lot of the Jack Byrne Arena flew right out of my head. Should probably have told him what I wanted to do, hmm? 

So, with a bit of a struggle, I got the bike onto Torbay Rd, heading north towards Flatrock. A shaky start, of course, but any fool can ride a bike if they don't have to worry about stopping, turning corners, or worrying about traffic. This fool wasn't any different. Chanting "look where you want to go" under my breath, I followed the leader.    ...   ... ...   ...   ???  !!!   !!!  !!! 

I learned how to decelerate on hills, lean into curves, and how to come to a stop. Oh boy. Don't use your feet before your bike has come to a stop! Hold your bike upright with your knees! Brake in a straight line!!! Don't be abrupt, or your horse will try to fling you over it's head. 

We did some finishing drills at the Arena, then headed for home. Thank f*#*!!!  I'd spent that entire ride on a roller coaster of emotions. My muscles were in dire need of loosening. Moments of relaxed happiness, cuz I've got pretty good balance and the actual driving is a pleasure, interspersed with moments of tension and fear of dropping the bike, steering into the ditch, chuddering the bike to a rough stop and the classic "stop the bike with your feet." Practice is needed, and the second ride, yesterday, went better for it.

Ride two went better, (Although a bad left turn from a full stop onto Logy Bay Rd resulted in a curb climb, turn, roll off the curb. A lovely move, judging by the dropped jaw of oncoming traffic, but wholly unintentional), and the subsequent practice at the parking lot taught me greater control at accelerating out of a stop into a turn, and smoother braking. Not perfect braking, but better. 

We swooped and spun around the Thomas Amusement trucks, and I got better at judging my turns, then lining up to park the bike and braking with a bit more confidence.

I could use a Novice sticker on the back of my helmet... Maybe some rookie wings? 

I think we're going out again this afternoon once the rush hour traffic dies down. Whee?! 

Long time, no Blogger...

Gads! has it been that long? To tell the truth, I can't seem to keep up with things sometimes. O well...

So, brief update. 

Quit job at Samuel & Co after 1 1/2 years. Loved the job, but was feeling generally dissatisfied with the requirements of the world of retail. Maybe if I had something invested in the company, but aside from a pay cheque... Um... No... Miss the people, coworkers and customers, miss seeing the new fashions as they come in. Do I miss spending money on them? No, I do not.

Being a smart cookie, I didn't quit the job until I had another lined up. I'm now working as a Hostess at the Air Canada Maple Leaf Lounge at the St. John's Airport. Same people skills needed, no selling. Less pay. Boo. No tips. Double boo. I would LOVE to find a job that offers what this one does, plus great pay. It does offer benefits, though, so that's an advantage. And aside from the crazy 4am shift, it's really enjoyable. (FYI, yes, it's really f'ing dark at 4 in the morning.)

Um... Bought a scooter. Just picked it up today. It's a Suzuki Burgman 400. Paul drove it home from Argo Sales and Service on Topsail Road. They're a small company, but unlike the big Harley dealership, they didn't laugh at me when I called to ask about buying a scooter. 

Going to Italy in a week's time. Three weeks through lovely Italy with the girl child! (University graduate now!!!) I'm excited, and scared spitless. Pictures? Sure! Lol... 

The dogs are good. All three of them. The boyz are good. They're living on their own now. Together, but alone. As in, not with me. :) But they're good. As in, still among the living as of Mothers Day.

Re the plants, they're still alive, too. Although I'be passed them back to their foster mother for continued maintenance. I never did get around to watering them. Teehee... My bad.

Well, that's enough time on the damned computer. Gotta go look at my bike again. Maybe sit on it, turn on the ignition... Make vroom vroom noises... Don't laugh! I'm quite serious!!!

The Day After Mother's Day: A Review

Good morning, and welcome to the day after. Writing the day after offers the opportunity to look back and reflect, review, and any other "R's" you wish to perform.

Yesterday started innocuously enough. I woke up at approximately 6 am after a lovely sleep-in surrounded by three dogs, ranging in weight and size from @ 20 pounds to 40 pounds. Two of them snore, quite prodigiously. The third has an insane relationship with the world's gravitational field and is able to make herself seem twice as heavy as she really is while sleeping. Not my dog, I only discovered in the past two weeks that she likes to stretch out in full body-to-body contact with her person. Can you say "warm?" 

After taking the three lunatics through their morning routine: out form a quick pee, feed, take out for a more leisurely pee, etc, I checked my to-do list. It had been fairly extensive at one point but had shrunk to a manageable size with diligence and application. 

To-do List

Hot tub chemicals

Water plants

Sweep and tidy kitchen

Vacuum

Value village pile to car

Pick up people from airport at 11:58

Phone Mom

Not bad! Doing the chemicals while dogs are having their leisurely backyard pee means not standing outside in the rain twice. But it's not raining today! Well, doesn't that just thrill me all to pieces?! Looks like it might be a sunny day after all. Turns out that yesterday was a beautiful day. Sunny and warm with a hint of balmy on the air. A bit of fish, too. (That happens sometimes, when the wind blows up from the ocean.)

Water plants. Uh-oh. Left that one out. Better do that today before they wilt again. Seriously, I have some unfortunate plants. They're nice and all, but they sure do like their water on a regular basis. Since watering all the plants means filling and refilling a medium sized container over and over, trekking through several rooms of the house, clambering onto the kitchen counter in some instances, this chore is slightly dodgy. In that I tend to dodge it. Doing it on a weekly basis gives some leeway. I use the Peace Lily as my "canary in the coal mine." If it's wilty and sad, I need to water the plants. Now. So, the lily wasn't wilty and I left them off. Did I feel energetic enough to go back and forth from room to kitchen tap? No. Did I feel like clambering, monkey-like across the kitchen counters? Apparently the answer there was also "no." So, that's still on for today. 

Tidying the kitchen means making piles on the table, assigning a name to the piles, and offering them to their respective owners for relocation. Once the piles are made, the table is rendered washable. Then comes the negotiation process of de-piling the table. That has a tendency to sound something like "move your darned stuff before I toss it in the garbage." This is said in varying tones of threat and is quite effective. Follow-through on threats is important in the setting-up stage of this particular game.

The rest of the kitchen clean-up comprised of your basic run-of-the-mill washing, wiping, and sweeping, and doesn't need further description other than to say that dish washing liquid is excellent for scrubbing granite sinks. 

I just want to point out Vacuuming is best not done while wearing a floor-length, polar fleece robe. I don't mind getting sweaty for a good cause, but vacuuming isn't good enough. So, tossing on a t-shirt  and pair of capris became necessary at this point. 

I'm going to mention the three-dog pile-up members briefly. They have varying degrees of shedding coats. The two cavaliers, despite have ing lovely locks of flowing hair, shed only slightly. The blonde, a yellow lab cross, sheds copiously despite frequent brushing and furminating. The furballs that float across the hardwood and catch on the carpets have taken on a whole new dimension since her arrival. Larger, spikier,and larger. MUCH larger. And copious. Did I mention "copious?" We like to air out the house by opening doors, front and back, catching the full breeze. Whether de-hairing the house is done before or after the opening of the doors, when the wind blows through the house it invariably finds tumbleweed sized balls of hair that lift and frolic through the air, sticking to every possible surface, thereby rendering any previous cleaning a moot point. Allergy sufferers need not attempt entry. Those who don't enjoy a dog hair or two in their food, ditto. Yes, our dogs shed.

The V.V. Boutique pile has been a work in progress for several weeks. You know how it is. You have stuff, too. It's stuff you acquired with a light and happy heart, intending to love forever, or until the warranty expired. Then the elves in your closet shrunk the clothes down a size, rendering your favorite jeans unwearable, styles changed (huh?!) and you can't be seen in public wearing that out-dated old thing, you really can't remember why you bought that knick-knack that seems to gather more dust than anything else in the house and sits next to a couple of other things that seem to have lost their sentimental value now that you've had to pick them up and dust them off off at least a million times... 

The number of bags and boxes tucked in the car reminded me of the time my boys moved out. It made me wonder what my neighbors thought, if they were watching the show. Don't worry! I'm not moving! Just de-cluttering the place! 

All that was left on my list was the picking up of the people from the airport at noon. So, I sat down for a well-deserved cup of chai and a bowl of yogurt. But first, I'll check the St. John's Arrivals, to make sure their plane is going to be on time. This timely task caused a mad scramble for the truck. Their darned flight was early by nearly half an hour! How many minutes does it take to get from the house to the airport? Five. Keep an eye out for the cherry-topped vehicles. No. Not really. I knew that luggage collection would slow them down, so I drove at a fairly sedate pace. Ask my mom! I was chatting on my cell phone while driving to the airport...  Relax people. I use a Bluetooth.

So, there was my next task taken care of. Phoned my mom to wish her a Happy Mother's Day.

The rest of the day was spent with my "newly-arrived home from San Fransisco" family, the boys came over for a delicious dinner, which I didn't have to cook. An early bedtime following the imbibation (is that even a word?!) of a few glasses of white wine capped off my day quite nicely. 

And look at that! It's Monday morning and my Sweetie brought a cup of coffee for me to enjoy in bed, and the sun is shining over Torbay. There's still three dogs in my bed, but they're good company. They keep a keen eye out for hikers and dogs walking on "their" section of the East Coast trail. The house is clean, it's the middle day of a three-day weekend for me, and I have no plans other than to get out and enjoy the sun. Can it get better than that for the day after Mother's Day? I thought not.

To all the mothers out there, Happy Day After Mother's Day!