I fell asleep around midnight last night; I woke up at 10 this morning.
I went to bed with shin pain and achy feet; I woke up with shin pain and achy feet.
I took that as a sign that I should probably not walk today, and instead give my feet a rest. Because really? I sometimes have these moments of intelligence, and have learned to capitalize on them. Capitolize? No, capitalize. Spell check says so.
So instead of talking a nice long walk, I rolled the scooter out of the garage and washed it...I think for the first time ever. It was pretty gnarly, what with all the dried dead bugs on the windshield and front grill and the fine coating of dust that just doesn't seem to blow off when I ride.
I also washed the cars...but once they dried I realized I did a really crappy job, so that doesn't count.
After I was done with the cars, there was still a little water on the scooter, so naturally I did what needed to be done to dry it off.
I took it for a ride.
I intended to just stick around town, but somehow found myself in Vacaville...it was like the scooter had a mind of its own and just went there without my consent. I assumed that meant it wanted to really stretch, so I headed back to Dixon on the Interstate.
Now, people, if you see a motorcycle on the interstate, do you try to get beside it, match speed, roll your window down, and talk to the rider?
No, of course you don't.
That would be stupid and dangerous.
Yet, that's what happened to me. I had pulled into the middle lane to get around a slowish moving semi, and was just thinking about getting back into the right lane when a minivan was there beside me, the driver yelling something at me. I caught "Is," "fun," and "hoot" before cracking the throttle open and getting the phck away from the idiot driver.
Sadly, this is not unusual, though it's the first time it's happened on the interstate. People are curious about the 3 wheels. They see me take a curve and realizes it leans, and the want to know about it. And stupidly, they try to ask me while I'm moving.
Here's something to note: if you are tempted to talk to a rider in motion... they can't hear you. Between the sound of their engine, road noise, wind noise, your vehicle, and their helmet...they can't make out what you're saying.
At 25 mph, I'm annoyed; at 75, I'm pissed off. And that I had to open it up to 90 to get ahead and away from that moron...that's just insane.
When I looked back to check traffic so that I could finally make my lane change, he was catching up.
I took the next exit.
Yes, it's spiffy looking. yes, it's unusual. But for cripe's sake, finding out about spiffy things like that is what the Internet is for.
I-80 at speed is not.
There's your lecture for the day.
Leave riders on the freeway alone.