Hi Auntie!

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...and on with the blog!
Okay. I have an aunt who is currently visiting from out of town for a week. Last night my grandparents hosted a dinner to celebrate my grandfather's birthday, celebrate my grandparent's anniversary, and get us all together in one place to visit with my aunt, their daughter.

She also happens to read this blog. Hi Auntie! :D

So, after work I had to jump on the bicycle, pedal home, take a fast shower and shave, dress in some decent clothes, throw on my helmet and leather jacket and head out on my motorcycle, all with the intention of being as not-so-late as possible. Late is kind of a given with me, but I was trying to get there as quickly as possible. I got all this stuff done with quite a bit of zip, and I was on schedule (according to the Garmin GPS system I had pulled out of my Jeep and attached to my motorcycle with rubber bands - I frequently try for McGyver, but generally wind up more Mickey Mouse) to be just 10 minutes late. That's not bad for me, and I was hoping to make up a little time once I got on the highway.

So this is how I found myself running north on Rt. 95 at 85 mph, keeping one eye on the "estimated arrival time" on the Garmin's screen and another on the rubber bands I had holding the unit to the handlebars. There were two of them doing the job, and I was on the lookout for one of them to snap so I could grab the unit and put it in my pocket before the second one snapped and sent the GPS skipping down the highway like a stone skipping across a tarmac pond at 85 mph.

I think that would void the warranty.

So it was while I had one eye on the GPS, one eye on the elastics, and both eyes on the road (have to add that in - Mom reads this too! Luckily I wear glasses, so I have 4 eyes...), zipping right along and actually making up a little time for once, that I noticed the fog light.

I have a pair of fog lights, one mounted to either side of the headlight, and they're usually both aimed straight ahead. The right one, however, was aimed almost directly to my left. I watched as I hit a slight bump in the road. For those of you who don't live in or near Boston, picture a huge pothole. It's all what you're used to. Anyway, the bike went over the slight bump and that light jiggled in its mounting like Michael J. Fox on a bad day.

Yes, I hear some of you booing at that. But you got the image I was throwing out there, so neener neener.

Thus I found myself pulled over in the breakdown lane with a wrench set repairing the loose light before the vibration of the bike running at speed loosened it further, and sent my fog light skipping down the highway like a stone skipping across a tarmac pond at 85 mph. It was a little nerve-wracking, since every time I had my back to the traffic I kept remembering all those videos that hit TV and the internet a few years ago showing police officers performing routine traffic stops on a highway and getting accidentally hammered by a passing car.

So you can see how it was not my fault that I pulled into my grandparent's driveway a little over 20 minutes late. I had an emergency roadside repair job - something completely unforseen and out of my control.


There. My last two posts had me accidentally almost hanging myself with my mail bag, then running from hornets while screaming like a little girl; not the most manly of scenes, either of them. This one has leather, a motorcycle, speed, danger, and I'm working  with tools. How much more macho can you get? Can I have my Man Card back yet?

Please?

Talk to you later!