The Here and Now

The following is a story I should have told long ago.
A story I avoided telling for the sake of my mother. I would not want her to have a heart attack on account of me.

So I put off this story, waiting till the learning curve had subsided.
Waiting to be in the comfort zone.
Now I feel confident that I all the learning type incidents are far in the past.

Now I can tell you my news.

I am now the proud owner of a motorcycle.

I have been riding quite a bit lately. Never very far, never very fast (motorcycles can be dangerous, you know).
But riding none-the-less.

I go up to the store every few days to pick up fresh veggies.
I wander the back streets seeing the sites.
I make Kimbop runs during lunch.

I throw on my leather jacket, a backpack, and, of course, my silver bowl shaped helmet that is ever so helpful in making me look cool, and hit the open road.

I get stares.
I get honks.
I get children laughing and pointing.

Seeing a blonde, as I have mentioned before, is a rarity in this country.
Seeing a woman on a bike is a rarity in this country.
Seeing a blonde woman on a bike is a flat out once in a lifetime occurrence.

So I get craning necks.

At least I know that the cars on the road know I’m there. At least they are paying attention to the bitch on a bike.

With my new found freedom I have learned something interesting about the area in which I have lived for the past 8 months.
It’s rather pretty in these parts.

Every time I have been out and about I have seen some new bit of countryside. Some new rice patty. A lake with the sun glinting off in crazy patterns.
Cow pies littering the road.

Cow pies clinging to my bike wheels.
Cow pies splattering on my jeans.

Frickin cow pies.