So I’m at a crossroads. A terrible crossroads where my bike’s desperate need for maintenance (oil change, new tires, new brakes, 15k service, state inspection) has intersected with my lack of funds ($0 in the savings account and creditors outpacing earnings). I’ve hit the riding point where I duck around every corner (even though I know for a fact no police car can actually read my inspection sticker to tell it’s 3 months out of date); where I’m afraid to ride my bike to jury duty because there are a LOT of cop cars there with bored police officers hanging around and probably looking for expired inspections stickers; where every rattle, clank or bump is the engine about to die from lack of attention; where I’m afraid to ride. There. I’ve said it. I’m afraid to ride because my tires (at almost 18k miles) have passed their life expectancy by more than 2,000 miles.


And here are my options:

Park the bike and walk everywhere. Nyet!

Ride my bicycle. Well, that’s OK when it ISN’T 105 degrees outside and I’m doing it because I want to, not because I have to so… Nope!

Use a credit card. Hmmm…

So, a year ago exactly, I paid off every credit card I owe and swore I would never, Never, NEVER charge anything again without paying it off immediately. Yeah, right.

It’s a total bitch. I have a really good job. I make more money than I ever thought I’d make. It’s a GOOD job. But I also have expenses and, despite my very best intentions, those expenses outpace my income.

This isn’t the place to go into why that is. Suffice to say, life is more complicated than just me and my personal business. But the bottom line is that I’m riding on an unsafe bike and am uncomfortable riding any distance at all (even though I don’t have any alternative) and I need to do something about it. I have plenty of unused credit, just begging me to get my bike fixed and I don’t want to do it. I know where this train is headed. I know where this road goes.

But I also know that I soon will truly be afoot (or abike) and that just isn’t practical for me. So the question comes back: to charge or not to charge?

What would you do? What should I do?

Lady Biker, Lady Biker, Where Have You Been?

Posted: 7th August 2015 by admin in Uncategorized

I’ve been to London to… well, not really, although I actually HAVE been to London since my last post. No audience with Her Majesty, however.

But that’s just one small thing I’ve done in all that time, one small thing that’s happened. No need to go into everything here…let’s just call it “life” and move on. There is one VERY important thing, though, and that’s that I’m still riding. Some things just stay the same. Thank God!

I have a new ride – a 2013 Street Glide named “The Streak.” (Don’t judge me. I didn’t name her; bikes name themselves.) It’s 2015 now and I bought her new so there are two years of rides I’ve done, including a long solo ride right after I bought her to Kentucky where I met up with my husband for our anniversary at an Eagles concert. Ahhhh. Great ride.

There haven’t been too many other rides – other than my daily commute and since I’m out of town about 50-60% of the time, that doesn’t amount to much riding. I’ve got a ride planned for Labor Day Weekend and I’m looking forward to it. The challenge of the moment: find a way to work riding back into my life in a more prominent way. That translates to pulling back on work and growing the “me” time. If anyone has found out a way to make that easier, please let me know.

At least I can now say I’m back in the saddle…the blogging saddle. Now let’s ride.

Wheels down, eyes up! Bring on the road!

One of the proudest moments a mom can ever have is seeing her child off to his first day of school. I had mine a couple of weeks ago when Noah, my baby, went to his first day of school…Motorcycle Safety School. Yes, my baby decided to become a rider. Ah. He always was one of my favorites.

As the youngest and with his brilliant older brother Reuben, Noah has always had the trailing position. Of course, he took that as a challenge in everything. Reuben walked at 8 months and 10 days?  No problem. I’ll walk at 8 months and 3 days. Reuben was a school genius? No problem. I’ll graduate when I’m 15 and head to college then. Reuben got a moped and rode it all over the place? OK, then. I’m going to get my license and get a motorcycle. And so he did.

Tim agreed we should get him a bike if he completed the course and found a great bike for him about 40 miles from us. After he completed the class, Noah and I took care of all the business: getting his license, then riding together to Alvarado to look at the bike, which he loved. I let him conduct the transaction with the seller and (thanks to my father playing  banker) he handed over the money for his new bike: a 2003 Honda Shadow 750 with only 5k miles. Perfect.

Then it was time for us to ride home. Now that was a tough moment. I had to ride on challenging country roads, then through DFW rush hour traffic with my baby in my rearview mirror. Yikes!

But I never should have doubted. At 21 (next Sunday) Noah is a fabulous rider. There is no prouder moment than seeing one of your kids excel in something you do yourself and knowing he will surpass your skills. Noah is a fabulous rider. He is confident and skilled but not at all reckless. I began my riding on a Ninja and regularly did foolish things (and I was in my 40s). Not so with Noah. He is a mature rider and will not cause me excessive sleep loss over his riding.

And the best part? He’s smart enough to have figured out how to get a job that not only allows him to ride; it facilitates it! He got a job delivering sandwiches in the area and is a model employee, taking extra shifts because it lets him ride more.

Noah will turn 21 next Sunday and he’s really grown up! I’m so proud of him and can’t wait for us all to go riding together. I’m a happy Mom!

Noah, keep your wheels down and your eyes up. Let’s go riding!

I recently took Tim up to the Panhandle to reunite with a lot of people he’s never met for my 30th high school reunion. I’ve been making jokes for the past several months about how I graduated before I was born but the truth is, I’m that old — nearly 49. Fortunately, it turns out 49 isn’t nearly as old as I thought it would be back when I was 29.

Fortunately also I’m not the only one who’s grown up. Actually, that’s probably a little harsh. Everyone I saw this weekend was an absolute joy. Some were people I barely knew because we ran with different crowds. 30 years later, we’re all part of the same crowd.

I think that was the most gratifying thing about this weekend: at our age, there are no cliques, no popular, no teenage versions of “untouchables.” We were all just a lot of people pushing 50, reminiscing about days that seemed so good in retrospect, when I’m sure we all know that’s because we’re only remembering the good times.

I think maybe it’s a blessing to look back on a significant period of your life and remember only good times. Now, I know it wasn’t all great but when compared against the rest of my life, it wasn’t so bad, either.

One other wonderful thing was spending time with people I don’t even remember from high school. I know the people we are today are a far cry from who we were 30 years ago but I’m a little sad I didn’t find the opportunity to get to know some of the people I spent time with this weekend back when I had the chance. One of them, John, even rides motorcycles and he’s so cool, I can cut him some slack that it’s not a Harley!

There’s one last thing that made this weekend so wonderful. Along with catching up with really good friends from my past and getting to know new people, my wonderful husband showed yet again why he is such a great guy and why I am so very fortunate to be with him.

There were two gay couples who had brought their partners. I’ve always been pretty vocal about what I believe when it comes to gay marriage (a topic I will not go into here except to say I think any two people should be able to have a legal relationship protected by law and any church should have the freedom to bless or not bless a union of any two people).

One of these men is a friend who goes way back – almost 45 years. He decided he wanted to dance with his partner but he didn’t want to break the ice alone. He came to our table and asked Tim and I if we would join them.

Now, Tim doesn’t dance. If you put him in a dark closet alone and played music, he wouldn’t even sway. But he readily agreed to join them on the floor so they wouldn’t be alone. Everyone else at our table joined them, too, and soon the floor was full and the ice was broken and it was never a problem again. And my honey did something I know makes him nervous (he really doesn’t ever want to look foolish in front of people) because he knew it meant something to me and because it was the right thing to do.

So, in a room full of reminiscing, I left knowing that today is really the best time ever. It’s rich with old memories and an even greater abundance of friends but most off all, I’ve got my honey. We rode home together Sunday – just like we’ll be doing for the rest of our lives. I am truly blessed!

Until next time, wheels down and eyes up.

Lady Biker Gets Married

Posted: 3rd July 2012 by admin in Uncategorized

It’s finally happened – the day I’ve been waiting for a long, long time. I married my wonderful honey, Tim Gillette, the Rocker Life Coach. We did it in our back yard on the lake, in front of our family and friends and enjoyed an afternoon of visiting and eating and drinking and singing karaoke and watching the kids play in the water. It was exactly what I hoped it would be – even better.

Afterwards, honey and I rode off (I even agreed to ride … wife) to start the rest of our lives together. We’ll be heading to Austin tomorrow for some more time of just us in one of our favorite towns – doing one of our favorite activities. I mean riding, of course! While we can’t take a long honeymoon ride just now, we will be planning a number of shorter rides throughout the month and a longer vacation later in the year.

And who cares when we go off together? We made our own commitment to each other a long time ago, in a prayer garden outside Mena, Arkansas. This was just putting a public exclamation point on the end of it.

Taking a motorcycle ride together is a perfect way to punctuate the end of one phase of our lives and begin the next phase because motorcycles have been so important to us throughout our lives together. They represent a shared pastime, something we will always have in common, something we don’t fight about (not that we fight about anything), and something we always enjoy. Even though we can’t communicate on our bikes (since I don’t have a CB), we’re always connected by an invisible thread that keeps me close behind him.

It’s a lot like our relationship as a whole. We’re both individuals with our own lives who have come together to create a shared life. We bring families, children, who have become adults in their own right before we ever even met each other. Each of us has lost a parent and continues to grieve over that loss while rejoicing in the relationship with our remaining parent. We each have a job that is important to us and which requires travel – never to the same place at the same time, it seems. We are often riding solo.

When you’re following a leader on a bike trip, he (or she) points out obstacles, navigates unexpected hazards, chooses a route, but you always have the option of following or not.

Believe it or not, I’m actually a pretty good follower and am mostly (though not always) content letting Tim lead the way. Let’s face it; most of our lives are apart because our jobs take us away from home so much so I have plenty of time to be in charge when I’m away and it’s not really all that great!

How fortunate I am to have found someone who, while he may appear reserved and stoic, actually not only tolerates me but appreciates me, enjoys me, and loves me for the bouncy, pouncy, quirky girl I am – a girl who dances down the steps to meet her groom on her wedding day (to a rock montage he picked out himself – while keeping a straight face)! He’s the perfect guy for a Lady Biker and thank you, Lord, for allowing our paths to cross in this world full of so many people who may be wonderful on their own but just aren’t quite right for me!

I’m a truly happy, blessed woman and eternally grateful for our family and friends who share our enthusiasm and love!

To see the RockStar Bride dancing down the aisle to Highway to Hell, click here: RockStar Bride Walks to “Highway to Hell”

Until next time, eyes up and wheels down.

Mother’s Day is one of those holidays that forces you to assess your performance at something – in this case, as a Mother (well, duh). It’s kind of like Administrative Professional’s Day. Good secretaries — I mean Administrative Professionals — get good gifts. Bad ones don’t.

So what’s a good gift for a Mom who’s a biker? Chrome? Bike gear? A new bike? Leather? Gadgets?

Answer: none of the above. Acknowledgement is all this Lady Biker wants. Acknowledgement that all the screw-ups didn’t ruin you permanently; remembrances of the good times; promises for days to come. Flowers are also nice (thank you very much, Jess). Hugs and kisses are absolutely perfecto.

Of course, a Lady Biker also likes a ride on her day and, thanks to a friend of Jessie’s, I got one – albeit a short one. I actually took one of her friends for a ride because he hadn’t ridden in a long time and asked if I’d be willing to. What’s this? A ride on a beautiful Sunday afternoon with no wind, a fluffy-cloud-filled sky? Would I? Would I? You bet! (Tim asked him how it felt riding bitch and he quickly replied it was much better behind a woman than behind a man. Tim was silenced! Nice comeback, kid!)

It was short and sweet but as I looked out the mirrors and saw how much he was enjoying himself, I realized this is what I’m missing so much: riding just for the pleasure of the ride. May is almost half-way done and with it, the fifth month of the year. I have had woefully few pleasure rides and none in my immediate future. I have to go to New Orleans this week and there was a very real possibility of riding there…until the meeting I was going for was scheduled in such a way that flying was my ONLY option. Foiled again.

I just got through telling Honey that he needs to accept that this year will not be a riding year for him. I guess someone needs to tell me that, too. There’s nothing like a stupid Hallmark Card Holiday to make you reflect on your inadequacies. Of course, I certainly don’t think any of my shortcomings as a mother have any connection with my failure to take a single long road trip this year so far (even though, as a woman, I could probably work out a way to make them related…and then eat chocolate to fix it). I’m just feeling like a slave to my job (which I love, by the way, but it still takes me away from my family a lot and that’s tough). It also takes away from my ride time.

I told Tim tonight that I realize now how much I have come to rely on our motorcycle trips together – not because they give us hand-holding-talking-about-things time but because it’s just the two of us working on a common goal. Our lives these days are very divergent; our travel may be at the same time but it’s to opposite ends of the country and our time together is full of all these things that just have to get done.

I’m not complaining about my life – only about not riding. And about Mother’s Day, which was the inception of this rant. I love my kids with all my heart and I wouldn’t change a thing about any of them. I’m glad to be a mum and on this Mother’s Day am missing my own mom especially deeply – even though she’s been gone a long time now. She left us about five years before she died, thanks to the memory-stealing symptoms of Alzheimer Disease. I was more like her mother for the last five or six years of her life. Never mind what that was like for my poor dad – no, really, never mind. This post is about Mother’s Day. He’ll get his due on Father’s Day. It’s MY day now!

Thanks, to my daughter who left no stretch marks, Jessica for my flowers. Thanks to Justin for his good wishes – I love him like a son, too. I guess the real beauty of being a mum is that not only do you have your kids, but you have the people they bring into their lives – and yours. Your family is as big as your arms can reach and mine can reach a long way!

Happy Mother’s Day to all those mothers out there. If you’re a rider, I’ll tell you this right now: there is no ride more enjoyable than one with one of your kids holding tight behind you. If you didn’t have one of those rides today, there’s always another day. It makes me think of something my mother always said to me when I asked her why there wasn’t a Kid’s Day since there was a Mother’s Day and a Father’s Day and a Grandparent’s Day (a Hallmark fabrication if there ever was one but I digress). She said “That’s because every day is kid’s day.” The truth is, every day is Mother’s Day – with the joy, the heartache, the clench-your-fists-so-you-don’t-hit-someone anger, the laughing, the eye-rolling (theirs and yours) – all of it. Every day is Mother’s Day.

Happy Mother’s Day, Lady Biker. And many more!

So I’ve had this goal for a long time – not a dream, exactly because it would be more of a nightmare, but a goal – and that’s to run a marathon before I’m 50. So, without going into exactly how old I am, let’s just say that it’s time to get moving. And the first move was a half marathon.

I had originally planned to run the Big D Half Marathon, but things didn’t exactly work out for that. And once they didn’t work out, neither did I – meaning I kind of abandoned my training regimen. But I didn’t abandon my dream. So The Big D day dawned stormy and rainy and cold and I was SO grateful I’d opted not to pay money for the event. But as it turned out, the balance of the day was perfect for running so, once the last serious rain shower had passed, I took off with my iPod set to my “Running Tunes” playlist and Nike Trainer letting me know how much further I had till I was home.

13.1 miles on a bike is a handy distance. It’s definitely not a long ride but neither is it a trip to the corner store. On two feet, 13.1 miles is akin to what William Walton experienced at the hands of the English and at about 12 miles, you’re thinking about how you wish you’d taken whatever drug it was that would keep you from feeling everything they’re doing to you. In fact, at mile 12, even Led Zeppelin wasn’t making me happy I was still alive. It was all pain and age and miles and people honking like they couldn’t tell I was about to die and honking didn’t make it better. I mean, when has a “thumbs up” ever been listed as any kind of medicine. Now, if they’d REALLY wanted to be helpful they would have tossed me a beer, but who parts with a beer in Irving on a Sunday afternoon?

So, I’m running really far and I’m really tired and everything hurts really badly and I’m contemplating the series of events that have led me here. The question I landed on, that I contemplated for the last hour of my run was this: why? Why, why, why?

When I was a little kid, I clearly remember asking my Mom – over and over – why? Why, why, why? Why, Mother? Then, once I became a Mom, I was asked the same question: Why, Mom? Why did he do that? Why is this that way? Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green (or, in our case, brown)? All questions I couldn’t answer. I fell back on my mom’s answer to me. “Just because.” Or, if she wasn’t in a good mood, “Because I said so.” That was actually the point in time I decided I wanted to be a Mother – because they were able to just say something and make it so.

Back to life’s question. Why? Why was I doing something that was causing physical pain? Why was I doing something that no one really cared about – except to be glad it was me and not then? Why had I gotten it into my head that there was some kind of significant reason to do this? Why? Why, why, why?

I made it home – stumbled, rather. In fact, either because my GPS is off just a bit or because of the way the streets meander, I actually finished about a quarter mile from the house. That meant I was through running but still had to get to the house. I actually thought about calling Tim and asking him to pick me up but pride intervened…thank God. I mean, how embarrassing would that be? I just ran 13.1 miles and cannot go another step so come get me for the last 100 yards!

Anyway, once I was home and sipping the beer no one had been kind enough to throw me, I had a chance to analyze things. Why? Why do we do what we do? I asked my father why I’d done something like that. (I rarely asked him the “why” question growing up because, as a chemistry professor, his answers often involved logic, reasoning, and science, three things I avoid religiously.)

He replied, not like a scientist, but like a father: because we take pleasure from setting challenges for ourselves, then achieving them. I suppose that’s why, at 82 years of age, he’s still kicking pretty hard. It’s about challenges.

I also suppose that’s part of the reason for me. It’s why I rode an Iron Butt (1,000 miles in 24 hours) on my own a year ago. It was for the challenge. It was also because someone very close to me (who shall remained unnamed, except to say he’s sometimes referred to as “Honey”) told me it was really hard and I had no idea how much work it would be. It was basically a gauntlet being thrown down. Turned out it wasn’t that hard after all and I realized that, while Tim (oops…not that Tim is the one who told me I shouldn’t do an Iron Butt because I had no idea how hard it was) is a great rider – much better than me – I’m in pretty good shape and have more endurance on the bike than he has.

The same was true with the run, except that Tim really encouraged me to do it. When I was having second thoughts because I’d slacked off on my training and the weather was bad early in the day, he reminded me of just how important it had been to me and how much I’d talked about it. He was right. It was important. Why? I don’t really know. Just because, I guess.

So that’s the story of how a Lady Biker got a thrill out of going a modest distance on two feet instead of two wheels.

Oh, by the way, later that evening, we rode the bikes up to spend time with friends. I’d had a short nap, three Advil, and was almost completely myself again. I guess 13.1 miles wasn’t that much after all. But I sure am glad I did it.

Now, as for the marathon. Right now that’s a little bit like asking a woman who’s just had a baby how many more she’s going to have. But I’ve had more than one baby. I know I’ll feel better about it later. And there’s still time before the drop-dead date of 50 years old to make my decision. The pain always goes away and you’re left with the sense of accomplishment. Feels good!

Until next time, wheels down and eyes up.

So spring has arrived in Dallas and, from the looks of it, it will be spectacular – at least if you like 80-degree days in late March and early April (which I do). Sure we’ve already had some tornadoes and hailstorms but that’s the price you pay to be out of cold weather gear and into real riding weather.

So why am I not riding??? Oh, sure, I’m making the trek back and forth to work but that’s not riding; that’s getting from point A to point B and fighting for lane space with ten million cars (70% of which must be unmanned since there are only 3 million people in the metroplex but I swear that’s how many cars are pressing in on me each day on my commute).

There’s only one answer, of course. Well, maybe two or three. Or four. But basically, this is what’s going on. I’ve traveled thousands of miles so far this year. Only problem is they’ve almost exclusively been on an airplane. The only riding I’ve done is back and forth to the airport and that ain’t riding!

I love my job; it funds my riding habit. But it also sucks up my ride time and that…well, sometimes that sucks. And while I want to get back into my long rides to visit courthouses, there are so many other things that need doing right now – the yard needs work; I need to spend time helping Honey out with his business, (check him out at which is taking off; oh, and there’s this thing called a wedding that I’m still preparing for, although everything else is closing in on it like it’s a juicy piece of meat to be eaten for dinner, devoured before it even takes place.

Now would be the perfect time to ride, to get away from it all; the perfect time to enjoy the wildflowers that are out double force to make up for last year’s total dearth of anything growing by the roadside; the perfect time to take an overnight trip with my sweet honey, who is so busy he makes me look unemployed. But, nothing doing.

You see, life intrudes on … well, life all the time. That’s what’s happening now. At least I’ve spent a whole week in town. A whole entire week – only the second one of the year. It’s been kick stands up every day this week (so far; I hope I haven’t jinxed it) and the weather has been amazing. (OK, except for the tornadoes and hail, but Coco came out unscathed.)

When my kids were young, I was a single mom and there was no extra money for anything. And still we had fun, enjoyed doing simple things like making cookies together; going on treasure hunts in the backyard (that was to find a missing earring, but they didn’t have to know that); drawing comic strips on the sidewalk with colored chalk. All things you could do on the fly for not much ka-ching.

Those were good times and these are, too. My bike isn’t racking up the miles but my life is racking up great moments. Even though I’m traveling on business, taking a tip from Tim, I’ve made new friends every place I’ve been. He featured that topic this week in his blog on RockStar Friends and he’s so right about the joys to be found wherever you go – no matter how you get there.

Not that much riding for me but boy have I scouted some great places to ride when the time is right: New Orleans, Buffalo, Atlanta, Columbus, Albuquerque, Raleigh. You guys hang tight. I’ll be back on two wheels and we’ll have a ball.

Until then, I’m happy to be riding to work in beautiful weather and coming home each night to my family. It’s all good!

Until next time, wheels down and eyes up.

I’m writing to you from lovely Columbus, Ohio. I’m here on business and it’s pouring down rain. I mean the kind of rain that makes you look for a guy building a huge boat. I’m waiting for the Statue of Liberty to go floating by. That’s how much rain there is. When the plain landed, we came in over a small lake…that wasn’t here back in November when I flew in. That’s how much rain there is. I’m actually glad to be in a cage instead of on a bike. THAT’S how much rain there is.

It’s been raining in Dallas, too, and I endured plenty of wet stuff earlier in the week before I left town. I also endured a pretty serious breakdown on Coco Wednesday night. Here’s how it happened. I had my son, Noah, on the back of the bike as we rode from my office in Addison to downtown Dallas for a Mavs game. We’ve had season tickets for years (since he was and ten or so and now he’s 20) and Wednesday night was a game night. It was cold but the rain had finally stopped – just a few sprinkles. Did I mention the part about it being cold? OK. Just want to be sure the scene is properly set. 

We took the tollway there because it was fast. By the way, Noah is a terrific passenger on a bike. He’s not a big kid and he rides beautifully. Never jerks or anticipates and most importantly, he rides like he trusts me completely – which is what you really want in a passenger. But I digress. Back to complaining!

So we’ve gotten to our primary parking spot, about a quarter mile from the arena, under the bridge. We like it because it’s a quick exit when the games are over and we don’t mind the quarter-mile walk to and from the arena. Just as I turned into the lot, Coco started making a horrible grinding sound, like the kickstand was dragging. But, of course, it wasn’t. I turned it off immediately and we both got off to see if anything was dragging. Because I’m always paranoid about the oil level, I immediately checked that but it was fine. So I decided to try starting it up again and I had, hands-down the strangest bike experience ever. 

Coco has an electric ignition and to turn her on, you must (1) turn on the power switch on the tank, (2) press the “run” switch that primes the engine, then (3) press the “start” ignition button. If the bike is in neutral, as it usually is, you don’t need to depress the clutch. Well, I knew it wasn’t in neutral so I did steps 1 and 2, then pressed the clutch in anticipation of hitting the “start” button. As soon as I pressed the clutch, the bike tried to start itself. It popped like a dead battery, and ground some more. After that, nothing. That’s something seriously wrong. And scary, too, like a gremlin is in the bike.

There was something else seriously wrong. We were at a game, pretty late on a rainy cold night, in downtown Dallas, about 25 miles from our nearest friend with a trailer – and considerably further from most of our other friends with trailers. Oh, and the Mavs were getting their NBA Championship rings in just a few short minutes. There just wasn’t time for this crap!

So here’s how it went down: Tim started calling friends looking for someone who could come down to pick me up. I called Harley-Davidson Member Support (the national guys) but their offices had closed and they wanted me to leave a message. I took Noah to watch the Mavs get their rings, then I called my insurance company, Geico (I absolutely LOVE these guys now) figuring they would at least have the names of some towing services I could call. Turns out it was much better than that; I actually having towing insurance on my motorcycle policy (PLEASE don’t tell any of my friends who have towed me for free before I found out about this wondrous thing). They arranged a truck to arrive after the game was over (the game totally sucked, by the way, much like the rest of the night) and Coco was transported to North Texas Harley Davidson, our guys.

Just to make it a tad more frustrating, when the driver asked what was wrong, I told him what had happened. Then to prove it, I tried to start the bike…which started beautifully, like the day I bought her. It’s almost like she’s not my friend anymore. Fortunately (I suppose) when I depressed the clutch, it began making the grinding sound again and at least I didn’t look like an idiot. And at least I was able to drive her up onto the bed of the truck, which was very helpful. Even with the grinding noise, the clutch still worked so I figured there was something else going on. I was right, darn it. 

So I dropped it at the dealership and Tim met us up there to drive us home. Next day, I had to catch a 6:00 am flight to Columbus (I mentioned the rain, right?) and I don’t get back until late Friday night. And I have to be at work at 6:30 Saturday morning so my bike HAD to be and back home where she belongs by the end of the day Friday. I called my wonderful friends at the dealership during my layover and Daniel promised he’d take care of her. By the time I’d finished my first day of business in Columbus and called the shop to check on her, she was almost done – lots of problems, though: clutch plate, starter and one other thing I didn’t hear because I interrupted him to be sure it was all covered by warranty. It was. Whew.

I had them slip a new set of rear brakes on since mine were so bad I could barely hold her on the truck bed when is was angled down to get me on. Still need a new front tire but I’ll probably wait until that just gives out on its own…I mean now that I know I have towing insurance and all.

This whole thing has not left me a very happy Lady Biker, as you can probably imagine. Sure, it could be worse, but it could also be better. But my bad attitude is a post for another day. Why get all your ranting and complaining done in one sitting when you can have the satisfaction of spreading it out over many days?

Exactly. So until next time, wheels down and head up. And let’s add one more thing – smooth roads and healthy engines. 

Hello world!

Posted: 9th January 2012 by admin in Uncategorized

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