2007-04-25

I picked up my new 1985 700 Yamaha Virago yesterday and what a difference between it and my 1981 CM400T Honda. First of all the Honda is much more forgiving when I “forget” to use the clutch. The Honda also gives me an excuse to go slower and the Honda also cannot go so fast as to throw me if I downshift too far and/or too quickly, the Yamaha can. But the Yamaha has a nice, easy sideways sliding choke system, the directionals are easier to remember to shut off as it returns to center and you just push the button in again to shut them off. I know, it’s not supposed to be a big difference but I found it easier. The engine will shut off if I leave the kickstand down and put it in gear (“Grandma your kick stand is down!!”) and finally I have enough power to safely negotiate the highway.

I think I’m going to be the type of girl to want a windscreen though. I have wrap around sunglasses with foam padding around the eyes to keep the wind out and my eyes were still watering and my leather jacket was open since it was 70 degrees out yesterday and yet 15 minutes into that ride I was frigid. A windscreen would help that even though it cuts down on some of that “wind in your hair” effect. Personally I think that goes out the window as you approach 50mph, then you’re just being sand blasted. I’m also wondering if I’m crazy to take up motorbikes in my 50’s. My daughter the nurse, who holds my healthcare proxy, wants to know how high up the spinal cord injury should be or how severe the brain trauma should be before she should pull the power. “We need to talk about this Mom”, she says as I saddle up. I laughingly answer, “Can I take one of my grandchildren for a ride?” and get a horrified, “NO! NEVER!” in return. … hehehe


Today I’m learning how to kill any fungus that grew under my rug due to either a leaking roof or a knot hole that weeped. Because of my weeping knot hole theory I think I might have to Killz the whole floor first. Ugh, another step. I mean first there’s all that moving furniture to pull up the carpet and then the padding and then the staples that held the padding and then there’s the trips to the dump to get rid of all that and now I am vacuuming and then killing algae/fungal blooms so I can wash the floor and dry the floor to get up the rest of the dirt and dust so that I can paint (Killz) and paint (first coat) and paint (second coat) all so I can then move the furniture from the other side of the room to the finished side and do it all again. I’m exhausted thinking about it and the first person that says to me, “It took you *all week* to paint the floor?” gets one right between the eyes.


This is mostly for Kim, but I loaned the Ex the money yesterday and yeah, I didn’t wear the ring although I have told him I am now engaged. What I have failed to say before because my oldest may be reading is that one time, when we first broke up, I slept with the Ex and the next morning the diamonds earrings that my oldest gave me for graduation, were gone. Now I was drinking and I may have lost them myself but I’ve seen how Ron treats people he doesn’t consider “family” anymore and I wonder how close to that boundary I am. He is aware that there is a fabulous ring but I don’t want to tempt fate with witness, facts and figures about the ring. To tell the truth I feel like a pauper wearing the Queens jewels and I constantly fear for them. The only thing that saves me from assault, I think, is the fact that I run amongst a crowd that automatically assumes it’s by Avon. But how would you like to run around with 139,000 in your purse? Wouldn’t that make you nervous? Well I feel the same way wearing it and maybe even more nervous because they can *see* it, at least in your purse no one has to know what you have.


Previous < < | > > Next


New Bike, Paint, Ring