Dear Diary,
LOLololol....ahhhhhh, i crack myself up sometimes!!! As I was thinking about what to "title" this entry I thought about the great travelers going west and how in movies 'they' would yell "Westward Ho"
...Lolololo, however I thought that "Northbound Ho(s)".....LOLOlololol.....well, that somehow that just wasn't right...hahahahah! Funny, mind you, but not the picture I wanted...hahahah,Ahhhhh!
ANYWAY.....
So when Scarlet and I left New Jersey, two of our riding sisters came to send us off. They brought two little ornaments each one sporting one of their names. They also brought a tiny pewter frog. Frogs are supposed to be a symbol of good luck!
We had very few traditions develop on this ride...perhaps only two. One was to tell each other to ride safe when we started out on the bikes and the other was to kiss that little pewter frog every morning.
I guess taking butt shots of Scarlett could be thought of as a tradition if we travel together again and I resume taking them....for this trip, tho', I think they fall into the category of "If you have ADD you will find something fun to do (no matter where you are or how physically uncomfortable you've become) to pester your traveling companion!"
>
the following is a "half-assed" attempt, heeheehee
and the Piece de Resistance:
I really could have sworn I took more. I very well may have taken more, but with someone else's camera....I wonder whose?
I would wait and wait and wait (with my camera hidden from view), for Scarlet to squat. There were times when I would have forgotten my camera and I just knew a good butt shot was around the corner. So I would make up a lame excuse to leave what we were doing in order to go and get it. My recollection is she never disappointed! HAhahaha.
Then there was Twitter....I never had to wait. She just seemed to come by it naturally. Heeheeheehee.
So, anyway, Scarlett and I faithfully kissed that frog every morning. Sometimes it would even sit on the table while we ate our breakfasts. Sometimes we would remember it just as we were getting on the bikes to leave and Scarlett would have to dig it out of her saddle bag in order for the tradition to be observed.
When Foxy and Twitter joined up with us they were made to kiss the frog as well. Surprisingly, they did it without complaint! Diary, it's weird what you can get perfect strangers to do!
So on Monday the 7th of July we were ready to head out. We awoke to a beautiful, sunny, albeit, cool day. We ate a continental breakfast compliments of the beautiful Comfort Suites Hotel which sits right on the shore of Lake Superior in Duluth, and with warm riding gear donned, we rode north.
Our first stop was for gas and air for Scarlett's and my rear tires. We all pulled up to the pumps and topped off our tanks. Scarlet and I headed to the air compressor which was located next to a parked, white, SUV while Foxy and Twitter pulled in front of said vehicle to wait for us.
Diary, have you ever done 5 or 6 deep knee bends and then, while holding a perfect squat and your breath, tried to put your finger on a mark no bigger than a number 2 pencil eraser that is buried under saddle bags and hidden behind a disc, all while wearing a full football uniform (helmet, full set of pads, outerwear, gloves and protective foot wear, the equivalent of what I have on at that point)??? OMG....anywho....there we are trying to get air in our tires....Scarlet finishes and pulls her bike out of the way so that I can access the compressor. I bend down to get the cap off the tire, stand up and reach for the hose, bend down and search for the valve, struggle with getting the nozzle on, just right, so that I am actually putting air in the tire and not releasing it. I stand back up and find the tire gauge. I bend down and search for the valve. I measure the tire pressure and am relieved that it is right on the mark. I stand BACK up, now a bit sweaty despite the cool breeze because, OF COURSE, I am 'flashing' (did I mention I was fifty???) and winded 'cause of all the gear AND
(I realize now) the fact that I have neglected to open the visor on my helmet so I am breathing in my own exhalations with every exertion and am losing my vision while my face has an odd tingling feeling. I replace the compressor hose and bend back down to search and struggle to replace the valve cover. I am so weak at this point from lack of oxygen that I have to get on all fours and am trying to peer through my bike gear to replace the freakin' cap when all of a sudden my bike starts to move! Now, nearly unconscious and burdened with full riding gear (which, by the way, is like having your own freakin' portable sauna bath when your 'flashing'), I can barely get to my feet when I realize that some hair-brained female (yes , I said it!) is backing into my bike.
Her rear wheel well (for lack of better description) on her passenger side is in direct contact with my Swarovsky crystaled wind shield and it is at its breaking point AND causing my front forks to turn sharply to the left as well.
Of course now, finally on my feet, I feel adrenaline pumping through every cell in my body, my heart is racing, I start screaming obscenities (which of course cannot be heard because my helmet visor is down) and because I am screaming I use up every last bit of oxygen in the helmet. I reach up to my helmet just as my knees begin to buckle and my vision dims to slap it open. I am rewarded by the sudden rush of clean, crisp Lake air! As I come back to my senses I hear Twitter berating the woman ( as only an intellegent, ADD Minnesotan of German descent [ gee, that sounds oddly familar] can do ) with, "OH MY GAWD! USE YOUR MIRRORS! THAT'S WHAT THEY'RE THERE FOR!"
As luck would have it there was a police officer getting gas at the pump right behind me and his presence seemed to calm everyone down rather quickly....and since there was no damage to my bike we left without having to report anything. We did notice, however, as the SUV pulled out that there was a foot long swath of scratches about two and a half inches wide down the panel over the rear wheel (from the crystals) that will have to be explained to hubby.
Diary, Let's take a breather before I tell about the rest of the day.
Tink
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