With nothing planned for today, Allan and I thought it would be a good time to go to Hamilton. The sails were in getting the zipper fixed as were the panels to the cockpit enclosure. One travel option was to take a moped and that way we could take our time and stop along the way and take pictures. Maybe pack a picnic. Sounds great in theory, right? Not wanting to be a "negative nellie" I went along with it and dressed as if I was going to be driving a moped.
As we walked with a skip in our step we got to the moped rental shop. After a few quick question and answers back and forth regarding cost and insurance, the attendant invited us to pick out a helmet. You can't know my feeling about wearing other people's head gear. The bottom of my feet started to itch and I hadn't yet picked out a suitable helmet. I wanted both Al and the attendant/moped instructor/mechanic to understand that I did not want to rent this machine if I was not comfortable driving it. I have seen too much moped damage in my young life to risk what I have left. It was agreed. The guy renting these death machines was going to make sure I was comfortable driving.
First up was Allan. He picked a shiny black half helmet that you see worn by sexy, muscled Harley Riders, if they wear any at all. He caught on quick about the ignition, brakes, and mastered working the horn and kickstand. Al drove fearlessly up the small knoll and around the tree and coasted confidently down to the start line. With a broad smile across the attendant's face he was happy to rent to Allan.
Last up was me. I also picked out a shiny black half helmet, not because of my fantasy about Harley drivers, but because it looked like it was newer and cleaner than the rest. There didn't appear to be anything moving that might make someone want to scratch. I, too, caught on quick about the ignition, and the brakes, and the horn and kickstand functions were well woven into the threads of my memory from a previous lesson some thirteen years ago. So the attendant is telling me to get onto the bike and put both feet on the ground. I would have obliged if my legs had been another inch or two longer. Come on, people! It's not like I didn't want to put both feet on the ground. So I failed there. But he wasn't going to let me off that easy. He insisted I start the bike while he held the bike up and to turn the gas on "a little bit". He assured me he would be at my side holding the bike up if the need arose. So define "a little bit". Potayto Potawto! I competently turned the ignition on, gripped the handle, and twisted it a little bit more than either of us expected. With no choke built into the bike, there is no risk of stalling out. So up that little knoll I barreled with the attendant running, but still at my side. I was impressed that he kept his word. (Later I would learn that his fingers had gotten stuck in the grocery basket screwed on the back of the bike.) As I rounded the tree at the top of the hill, I turned my head to see Allan standing at the start line, smiling me on. He really wanted me to pass the instructors standards. Getting to the bottom was no problem. Ta Da! I had passed the finish line. The attendant was smiling, but he knew better than to give me anything close to a passing grade. He suggested we give the practice run another try. So again, he held me and the bike up while the ignition, etc, etc...... Finish line. Still not comfortable with giving me the key? So who was concerned about me driving this machine in the first place? :) After three tries of trying out this practice run I threw in the towel. Some things are just not worth the risk.
We took the bus. Hamilton was beautiful. Temperature today 76 degrees. No snow in the forecast. I hope something interesting happens tomorrow that I can write about.
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