I smell of gasoline!

It’s been raining off and on all day. I’m sick and tired of this typical Georgia spring weather! I swear, we’ve had no typical spring around here in 7 years or something. Then I decide to get a bike in the fall…. and here we are. Mr. Murphy, you are a bum, indeed! Anyway, so I drag all my stuff outside: Bike stands, kerosene soaked paper towels, hair dryer, 50-ft orange power cord on a spool, some lube (for the chain) and miscellaneous odds and ends. I have hubby wait outside, since I recruited his help to get her Fatliness up off her wheels, while I rummage around the house looking for my [drumroll please] ‘busa key. I’m terrible with keys, I don’t know why. I finally find it, step back outside, holding the thing up triumphantly and it starts sprinkling. #$(%&@#$! I haul all the crap back inside, cussing and carrying on about how sucky the weather really is and how Mother Nature, could really schedule her maintenance during the night, when we’re all sleeping! But no! So here I am with a white bike, more of the crappy white stuff they put on during her first service, which flings ALL OVER the place, and the ‘busa is BLACK on the bottom. So it shows. BIG TIME! Hubby goes to work, I check the weather periodically and I find a break in the clouds. Screw it, let’s ride! I gear up and squeeze about 60 more miles in under a pregnant, black T-Storm front that’s slowly moving in. I also get my picture taken by someone in a cage, while they’re passing me in the fast lane as soon as the highway opened up. Gawd! I pretend not to notice. As funny as that was at first, and as flattering, it’s getting old for this shy girl of geek. I make it back home and take my gear off. Now what? I could do some chores… oh yeah, I almost forgot. Kittyhog needs to be cranked so her battery won’t die, and she needs food. I could combine the two… Ah. I just got changed. So, what does ATGATT girl do? Yup, she squids it the 1/4 mile to the gas station. Wearing naught but a pair of jeans, Keds, a shirt that says ‘Does this bike make my butt look fast?’ and my new lid. Yeah. Priceless. I feel naked and vulnerable. Won’t be doing that again any time soon. Further, Kittyhog feels alien now. And here I remembered her being sporty and a bit on the racy side. I feel like I’m sitting in a La-Z-boy recliner. But she feels so low, I think I’m going to run the risk of dragging butt cheeks. I don’t remember having ape hangers for handlebars, either. She’s so TINY! The clutch lever pull is so long, I have to send out a search party for the friction zone. I feel like a total n00b, but apparently my muscles remember and I ride her like I always must have, don’t know. Anyway, I’m pulling up to the pump to get her some food, and this station has the nozzles with the little hole on the end. I hate those things! When gas comes through there, it shuts off the pump. It sucks! So I do what I always do, try to squeeze just a little more into my tiny Sportster tank and the thing slips and I’m showered in High Ocatane Premium at $2.18 per gallon, I estimate I’m wearing about fitty cent. I got it in my left eye, too. Ouch. I put Kittyhog on her sidestand, put the nozzle into its cradle and rip my helmet (yup, it’s my NEW ONE! Thanks again, Murph!) off my head. I toss it onto the right-side mirror, slide around the tank and grasp at the blue shop towels they have in dispensers at most gas stations and start frantically wiping off…. my bike and my lid. Never mind the eyeball, my stuff’s paint is in danger. I come home and wipe everything down with tap water and do a load of laundry. I still smell of gasoline. I’m such a dork.



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