Last Ride Of The Season

"Love doesn't make the world go 'round;

love is what makes the ride worth while."

-- Shannon L. Alder

Sad Lego clown and toy motorcycle 11-6-14

This good thing is definitely a mixed bag.

I've been putting off prepping my motorcycle, Suzi-Two, for winter because I'm lazy, but also because it makes me feel sad.

Sad Lego clown and toy motorcycle 11-6-14

But yesterday was sunny and warm-ish here, so I took advantage of the good weather to do two things: 

1. I gently and lovingly sponge-bathed Suzi outside in the driveway to get her ready for hibernation.

That was the sad part.

She looked stunning though, with her chrome all polished and sparkling in the late-autumn sunshine.

2. I leathered up one last time, pulled on my helmet and took Suzi out for one last ride.

That was the good part.

The landscape was also stunning, with its rolling vistas of red and gold and green. The fresh fall air was like a tonic for my soul. I froze my ass off, but I didn't care.

After my ride, my husband measured out the fuel stabilizer and poured it in Suzi's gas tank. It keeps her arteries from getting clogged in the cold.

Then he took out her heart -- er, her battery -- and hooked it up to the trickle charger in the basement. It's like a little life-support system that keeps her ticker ticking so it will be strong and vigorous in the spring.

Now, whenever I go to the basement, I see Suzi's disembodied heart on a shelf and I feel a tiny sad twinge in my own chest. I know it's for her own good, but still.

Today I will swaddle Suzi in her blue sleeping bag and finish tucking her in for her long winter's nap.

And until spring springs, every time I walk past Suzi in the garage I'll pat her on the saddle and wonder if she's missing me as much as I'll be missing her.

Maybe it hurts less if your heart is on a shelf.

Sigh.

A Good Home

"Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave,

and grow old wanting to get back to."

-- John Ed Pearce

Old chopper looking for a good home 6-30-14

"The ache for home lives in all of us,

the safe place where we can go as we are

and not be questioned."

-- Maya Angelou

Sometimes I feel so worn out, rusted, old, damaged, ripped, torn, useless and unattractive that I think I must be unlovable, un-wantable.

And then I come home.

I have a good home.

There are people here who love me, in spite of all my wear and tear, in spite of all my damage, in spite of all my flaws.

When I can't see any good reason why anyone would want to keep me around, the patient, tender, kind -- did I already mention patient? -- people in my home somehow do. 

It's a good thing.

Without them and their love, I don't know where I'd be. 

A Good Way To Let Off Steam

"Let off some steam, Bennett."

-- Arnold Schwarzenegger, Commando

Steaming tea kettle 5-26-14

"Sometimes I need to blow off steam and go dance really hard."

-- Kristen Wiig

Yesterday was one of those strange Bizarro World days where everything I tried to accomplish went to Hell in a hand-cart.

Nothing major happened. Nothing serious. It was more like a day-long accumulation of pesky little stupid shit.

It seemed like no matter what I did, or tried to do, I was stymied, thwarted, interfered with -- all of which left me feeling very tense, angry, volatile, combustible. 

Steamed.

Even my trusty, reliable, sure-fire ways to blow off all that steam backfired, which just made me more steamed.

By the end of the day, all I wanted to do was get blasted, shake my tiny fists at the heavens and scream "FUUUUUUUCK!!!" from the rooftop.

But I didn't.

Because I had an Ace up my sleeve.

After supper I left the dirty dishes for the boys, strapped on my helmet, leather and boots, and went out for a long motorcycle ride.

There was a hazy, misty quality to the atmosphere as I zoomed along the coastline of Lake Erie, watching the sun slowly sink through the clouds towards the water. 

A few miles in, my lungs uncoiled and expanded all the way down and I finally breathed deep, full breaths instead of the shallow anxious ones I'd been breathing all day. 

Anxiety, frustration, tension, disappointment -- all that shit from my shitty stupid day began to fall away, so I just kept riding until it was all out of my system and I'd left it behind like a greasy smear of roadkill on the pavement. 

I kept riding until I felt better.

I kept riding until I felt good.

Being Bitten By The Bug

"The motorcycle bug is something not easily shaken ... 

once I got one, I was going to have the itch forever."

-- Tess McRae, 

"My Quest to Become a Real Motorcycle Boss,"

  Queens Chronicle

Stag beetle on a motorcycle 6-23-14

"If you've got the poison I've got the remedy."

-- Jason Mraz, "Remedy (I Won't Worry)"

Ding! Ding! Ding!

It's time for the One Good Thing "idiom of the day."

Whoop! Whoop!

Today's idiom is: "bitten by the ___________ bug." 

This idiom means "to develop a passionate interest in a specified activity." Here are a couple of helpful example sentences from  the Oxford Dictionary:

"Joe was badly bitten by the showbiz bug at the age of four."

"Seems that Bob has been bitten by the sales bug after his experiences at Imvector."

I had the distinct privilege of helping someone be bitten by the bug yesterday, specifically, the motorcycle bug.

My 15-year-old friend Elizabeth has been saying for some time now that she wants a motorcycle, but until yesterday she'd never straddled a bike. So after checking with her parents, I showed up at her house on my motorcycle, Suzi, to remedy the situation. I brought along my extra helmet, Elizabeth provided her own black, high-laced punk boots and studded pleather jacket, and off we zoomed.

It was a perfect day to ride. Ohio's countryside was shamelessly showing off her summer loveliness. Elizabeth looked exactly right and breezily natural in her first-time biker gear. She even has perfect motorcycle hair that whipped and swirled behind her and even did that pretty tumble-down thing when she took off her helmet.

I figured the ride would either scare her off motorcycles forever, or win her over for good. So when we rolled back up to her house, I asked the obvious question:

"So, do you still want one?"

Elizabeth's answer was a breathless and unequivocal "Yes!"

The motorcycle bug has been buzzing in Elizabeth's ear for a while, but after yesterday, I'm pretty sure it has its pincers securely sunk into her soul.

Yep. She's infected alright.

All I can says is it's a good thing I was there to help.

My Motorcycle

"You do not need a therapist if you own a motorcycle."

-- Dan Akroyd

Self portrait 6-20-14

"A motorcycle is an independent thing."

-- Ryan Hurst

This is me with my motorcycle.

My motorcycle's name is Suzi.

Suzi is one of the goodest good things of all.

She is mine. All mine.

We had a super good ride yesterday.

But then again, a motorcycle ride is always good.

And a good motorcycle ride always seems to make everything better.

I call it pscycletherapy.

Zoom, zoom!