February 13th: I go to the DMV to register it. You know the clerk that seems to have mental difficulties - the one that you really don't want to get? Yes, I got him. That comment is me being an azzhole, I know. But such is life. After many many hours of struggle and 2 retries, I walk out with registration and a motorcycle permit. "No two-up, no freeways, and no night riding." Right.
Posted Tuesday February 13th, unedited:
"==For your information, no, I don't die nor do I even crash at the end of this story...it's just another boring ol' first ride new-rider experience.==
So I went out tonight for my first real ride....I rushed home from work, bought insurance ($290 for 12 months:), printed it out, put that and new registration in my Zephyr 550, and I was off! Off to the computer, that is. I hadn't eaten since 10am, and it was 7:30pm. But I had things to do...see, I have my permit, which doesn't allow for nighttime riding. So I searched the books to find out what that violation is (just in case), which seems to be an infraction, which is considered a violation of city ordinance and is a civil case only involving a fine. Ok, I might die anyway, so I'll risk it. However, let me know if I'm wrong! I don't want a misdimeanor.
I smell like gasoline.
I started the thing up, checked for leaks, put the choke on, left it to idle while I got my helmet (bike still locked to a post), put on my gloves and helmet, and was off! I was alert, and I knew the roads I was going on well.
I got out on the road, and flat-footed the orchards of stopsigns that grow outside my aparment complex. My helmet was fogging up like a misty mountain hop, so kept it open or cracked. After the fourth stopsign, I had a car behind me, and was a bit nervous so I winkered over to the right and let them all pass. I came up to a main road with a lot of traffic (45mph), and pulled out and was on my way, and completed a U-turn shortly thereafter to get to my friends house. His empty house, anyway. I check over my bike, and I'm off again. Around the empty backroads I run.
My first funny car encounter was like this-each line happening concurrently within itself:
car-slow and stop, me sloow and stop
car-GO, me GO Woops!
Car edge out a bit, me-go, me stall
I wave and wave as I back up with my legs, and after a few hours, the car is finally on its way.
Yesterday I leaked out 2 gallons of gas because of my ignorance of a vacuum petcock, so I drive to a gas station. At the stoplight, a GIGANTIC pickup pulls up behind me (must have been at least a Ford Ranger
). I stay in the center of the lane. I spend a long while getting gas and buying oil. I put in half a quart, and note that I can't put the container in the "glove" box or whatever that taillight section toothbrush case thing is called. I leave it next to the trashcan. Someone could use it. But unspoken blood of mine boiled after getting my gear on, so I hopped over my bike and shoved the thing up my shirt. Good to know I have room to do all that drinking and riding I was planning. Razz
I get home and check the bike over, and start walking back to my apartment. BUT.....then, I turn around.
I ride to my second and final member of my band's house, which was empty. I was planning on asking him where the first member was. I'm off again.
This time, I practice emergency braking, and lock up the rear tire for a millisecond at 20mph or so. I let it go right away, but I knew that at a faster speed, that could mean a spill. I'm gonna practice more. AGAIN against better judgement, I took it to 50mph, and WOW, that feels really fast. I feel like I'm being lifted out of my seat a bit, so I need to figure out my posture.
I finally get back home, safe, sound, and blitheringly happy. I practiced swerving, braking, u turns, turns, backing up, and being alert. ALL the cars I saw were very curteous, curtesy of a small college town. I know I need to be careful, and I do my best. It will be a lot more dangerous in other areas that I will ride in.
The rush! The ****ING FUN! Not like the unconscious barbaric snarl of a 45 minute hardcore punk rock set, but more like a slow burning cigarette. That leans into the turns. You know that feeling you have as a kid or (if you're like me) as an adult that you want to fly? I feel like that's what I was doing. No one was there to do it with me, no one supremely special is in my lonely life, and no one was back at home waiting for me. But flying is worth it.
-I'm damn hungry."