I feel sorry for all those women who when they get the opportunity to have their weekend opt to go to a spa. How boring it must be to be manicured, pedicured, massaged, dipped, waxed, oiled, and lulled to sleep, when they could have spent more than two days on the back of a HOG.
Okay, maybe not a HOG. It was a Nighthawk, but a motorcycle all the same. My spa weekend was spent in Acton, MA at Ironstone Ventures Beginner Motorcycle Training. In addition to the 3 hours of classroom time on Friday evening, from 6:45 AM to 5 PM on Saturday and again at ungodly 6:45 AM to 1:30 PM on Sunday I was living and breathing a Nighthawk labelled C.
Along with 10 other lucky souls, I learned how to start the bike, (good beginning), and stop it. Also good for when balls, small children or other vehicles get in your way. We did swerving, turning (the slow, press and roll) , shifting, fast braking, and manuevering in tight spaces. We learned what to do in a skid, and what not to do. And at the end of the lessons we all passed the RMV test and got our licenses.
Now all I want to do is ride, ride, ride. My hands ache to once again squeeze the clutch and front brake. My left foot keeps probing for the gear shift. The right is inching forward for the rear brake. And my ass is only comfortable cradled in leather. I've got to get out there.
Maybe I'll ride over to the salon. I wonder if Marge can squeeze me in for a manicure.
3 comments:
Okay, this is pretty freakin' funny, and I'm sniffing an essay for the MWDN, at the very least. Do you feel like doing a little newsreporting? If yes, you should pitch a feature-ish piece to Ms. Olsen about this (you'd probably have to do a little research etc).
I loved this line: "And my ass is only comfortable cradled in leather."
Hot stuff (although you'll probably have to lose that line for a family paper. *sigh*)
Congrats on the license!
I want to see you on your motorcycle!
me too
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