Crazy Optimist

The other day, I thought about all of the weird things that happen to me and the even weirder way I react to them. I realized that even though I hate insensitivity, unkindness, bigotry, etc., that I am still kind of this crazy optimist. Case in point: my adventures learning how to ride a motorcycle.

I mean, hell yeah, I got frustrated and cried at one point because THE BOYS WERE LAUGHING AT ME, AND THE KICK STARTER WAS REALLY HURTING MY LEG, AND THEY WEREN’T EVEN TELLING ME HOW TO DO ANYTHING?!!#@* But after that mild set-back, some water, and some teaching, I was ready to get back on that beautiful vintage piece of ass.

I had already ridden unassisted twice, and now that I had an idea of how to get the damn thing going, I was feeling good. I decided to drive around the yard before we returned to the trails, just so I could get the hang of it all. I took off, kept control, and did my first turn cleanly and without fear. I got a little excited, almost pushed the wrong brakes, and instantly freaked out as I realized the giant magnolia tree was getting bigger and bigger. I tried to get my foot to the back brakes in time, but all I could do was scream and thank god that little bike stalled out the moment you let go of the throttle.

I instantly started laughing. The boyfriend came running over, friend in tow, and they were already in tears as well. We finally rolled the bike out of the branches and I think invigorated by the humor of it all, I immediately kickstarted the bike for the first time all day. I felt better than ever, so excited that I could maneuver a machine I’d never been on in my life, I was in control, and OHMYGOD MY FEET AREN’T EVEN NEAR THE BRAKES AND THE TREE IS ONLY FIVE FEET AWAY!

Bam. I crashed again, this time two feet from my previous crash site and about half a foot from an incredibly “I’ll impale you” looking branch. We all laughed again, documented it for posterity, and I decided to walk the bike well away from the tree before giving it another go.

At the end of the day, I walked up to the tree and searched for the perfect bloom on that bitch. The boys got it down for me, and I took it home.

Moral of the story?
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