Back on the Motorcycle
I am back in the motorcycle world.
And that means:
The 50 - 60 year old mechanic who openly shares his story about the first time he took a road test on a Vespa, and how quietly he beat the big guys on a Harley at the age of 16.
Walking into a motorcycle shop and chatting off with people somewhat like me amidst helmets and gear.
The lady in her big Pathfinder who cannot help but smile as she sees us turning left to go on to our driveway.
The police officer who yells "GOOD JOB" while he smiles and holds both thumbs up at me before he stops someone else who is coming right behind me.
The guy in the Harley, who rather than pick anything against me, gives me a peace sign as he comes towards me on the other side of the back road on my way home from yoga.
It is the sun in my face as it feels good not to be expending so much gas into the world and the cold feet I get for wearing shorts when it is just mildly chilly out.
It is my wife getting me a vest whether I want it, or not. And my paying her back for it, because deep down I also know it is best to be safe than sorry somehow.
It is knowing I will not be first or the fastest, but that I can cruise with the chance of people opening up to me more easily than behind the protection of a windshield.
It means feeling happier, again, by somehow beating transportation by as much as at least being able to get to places, let alone without the expensive fees, long waiting times and costly insurance. How will I pay for damaging another vehicle? We will need to find out if we ever get there, but clearly out-of-pocket sounds to me like the first and only possible answer.
I stand at the mercy of an accident, I know that. However, I also rest hopeful that life has got me. That, the helmet, my gear and awfully cautious driving that might only go as fast as 40 to 45 mph might somehow have to come in handy for now.
It has only been a day this far, but I can already feel the difference between here and so many other places. We are not that numerous here. Unfortunately, that also means I highly doubt I will be sliding past any cars as I did in rush hour traffic in Costa Rica. Many things need to change, like adapting to the fact that this scooter is shared now, and not even in my name as I stand-by for my wife to have our first big shared item purchase stand solely in her name. I also get the sense that people are more prone to respect my personal space by watching out for me a bit more here than in my hometown. Like when they hold their cars at a full stop or clearly always look both ways for a considerable amount of space before they start their acceleration pedal. The sense of fear of a car just jumping at me at one time needs to subside now. Or maybe stay. I am weighing that out now.
And that means:The 50 - 60 year old mechanic who openly shares his story about the first time he took a road test on a Vespa, and how quietly he beat the big guys on a Harley at the age of 16.
Walking into a motorcycle shop and chatting off with people somewhat like me amidst helmets and gear.
The lady in her big Pathfinder who cannot help but smile as she sees us turning left to go on to our driveway.
The police officer who yells "GOOD JOB" while he smiles and holds both thumbs up at me before he stops someone else who is coming right behind me.
The guy in the Harley, who rather than pick anything against me, gives me a peace sign as he comes towards me on the other side of the back road on my way home from yoga.
It is the sun in my face as it feels good not to be expending so much gas into the world and the cold feet I get for wearing shorts when it is just mildly chilly out.
It is my wife getting me a vest whether I want it, or not. And my paying her back for it, because deep down I also know it is best to be safe than sorry somehow. It is knowing I will not be first or the fastest, but that I can cruise with the chance of people opening up to me more easily than behind the protection of a windshield.
It means feeling happier, again, by somehow beating transportation by as much as at least being able to get to places, let alone without the expensive fees, long waiting times and costly insurance. How will I pay for damaging another vehicle? We will need to find out if we ever get there, but clearly out-of-pocket sounds to me like the first and only possible answer.
I stand at the mercy of an accident, I know that. However, I also rest hopeful that life has got me. That, the helmet, my gear and awfully cautious driving that might only go as fast as 40 to 45 mph might somehow have to come in handy for now.
It has only been a day this far, but I can already feel the difference between here and so many other places. We are not that numerous here. Unfortunately, that also means I highly doubt I will be sliding past any cars as I did in rush hour traffic in Costa Rica. Many things need to change, like adapting to the fact that this scooter is shared now, and not even in my name as I stand-by for my wife to have our first big shared item purchase stand solely in her name. I also get the sense that people are more prone to respect my personal space by watching out for me a bit more here than in my hometown. Like when they hold their cars at a full stop or clearly always look both ways for a considerable amount of space before they start their acceleration pedal. The sense of fear of a car just jumping at me at one time needs to subside now. Or maybe stay. I am weighing that out now.
Comments
Post a Comment