I Didn't Think It Through

I really didn't think it through very well, but when do I ever think things through well?

I dropped my motorcycle off this morning with the guy that did the paint job on it five years ago. A friend noticed that around the gas cap area the paint was beginning to bubble up so Ben, the master of paint, is going to repair it for me.

What's the problem? Well the problem is that last night was bike night and I had planned on going but I had no bike. I decided to brave it and do something I haven't done in years, and that was to ride on the back of another bike.

After riding my own motorcycle for years the thought of riding on the back of anyone's bike scares the hell out of me. Right now, thinking about it, I need a Xanax. That tells you how excited I was for this "new" venture. But I did it. I needed something to take my mind off of some medical problems my daughter's been having so I conquered my fear and climbed on back.

I asked nicely, or so I thought, for him not to scare me and to chill out with his riding technique. As we turned out of the driveway I knew I should have taken a Xanax before we left, it wasn't going to be an easy ride.

I was freaked out the entire time, but we made it safely. Once we were there I felt lost, I'd never been there without my bike and I have to admit I missed the attention she gets when I take her anywhere. She's beautifully retro and totally me, right down to my kiss print on the tank.

We hung around for awhile before deciding to take the long way home, another "why did I do it" moment. But it was fun. My friend didn't take the corners as he usually does when we ride together and was pretty respectful of my request not to scare me.

But once we were off the country roads and on the highway another problem cropped up, I REALLY had to pee and my jeans and my underwear were REALLY beginning to bother me. I was squirming all over the place which was distracting him and we couldn't have that. I needed all of his attention on the task at hand.

I could wait to pee but I couldn't wait to fix my jeans and underwear. It was getting worse by the second and I just knew I was going to get gangrene if I didn't do something fast. I had no choice I had to try to tackle the problem.

So flying 70 mph down the highway I undid the buckle on my chaps, I undid the buckle on my belt, I unzipped my jeans and tried to move things around. I had to do all this while trying not to distract him and trying not to be noticed by the cars we were zipping past. Not so sure I accomplished that last feat.

He noticed something was happening.

"Teri, what in the hell are you doing?"

"Just trying to get comfortable."

"Well cut it out. You're moving the bike around."

"I can't. I have to zip up my jeans."

"WHAT?"

"I have to zip up my jeans, buckle my belt and buckle my chaps."

"WHAT? WHY?"

"I was going to get gangrene! Just keep riding!"

I'm sure he was wondering, but he didn't ask and I wasn't going to tell.

I made it home alive and gangrene free.