Time and Tide
So, the old retired journaler dodged a truck (car, bus, road grader), totaled his Harley, but walked away shaking rather than carrying his head. This is not a bad outcome: the bike may be history, but the life is intact. As Chuck said: "...there are two types of riders: those who have gone down, and those who have not gone down yet. Steve is now among the downed. So... Welcome, buddy, and sorry you had to join up!"
There are many who aspire to "join" and, among those who ride, many who do. It's not the "who do", but the how and how hard. Glad you could keep it to road rash.
So, in your riding days, did you ever lay it down?
The Vespa yes, but the (450) Honda no. A 450 Honda, twin cam or otherwise, is not a Harley Road King or a beast like the one Chuck has tethered in his garage. Still, you go down, 10 cc's or 1,000, it's all the same if you don't get up. My bike riding days are gone, my old Honda 450 sold long ago to a friend last seen racing into the sun on Highway 101.
I worked Thursday, yesterday, but took off today in the late morning. I had some blood work to get done over at the hospital which had me in and out and on the street by eight, feeling kind of shitty, but I said what the hell and drove into work. I have the vacation time, have lots of vacation time, but habits are well, after all, habits. They looked at me in disbelief. "Go home", they said. "Bring not your transmittable diseases here!"
"Yes", I said, "but not until I have a piece of this swell congratulations on getting married next week cake you've brought for MSJ." MSJ will now be MS another letter. I'm home now between naps, my exertions limited to feeding Emmy when she let's me know it's time and writing this. Fuzzy headed writing this. Getting over a cold writing this. But writing this.
Progress with Ms. Emmy: I have been writing down the names of the various brands and flavors of cat food as I've been feeding them to her (to find one or two she likes). There's only been one so far she's been willing to finish. Half a can in the morning, the rest in the evening when I get back. She'll sometimes eat the morning portion with seeming relish and then not touch the second half which I've capped and carefully put in the refrigerator for sanitary storage, warming it up when I get home. Warm or cold, no dice.
A postscript: it was a "summons for jury service" and it says I was to show up on Wednesday, the 27th. It was on the afternoon of the 27th when I finally remembered I'd received it. Time and tide.
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