Motorcycle Mama
My daughter Michelle and I went through a grueling 16 hour weekend course to get our motorcycle licenses. We bought a scooter called a "Rukus." Cool looking thing with no clutch, shifting to worry about. But to get the license, we had to be proficient on REAL motorcycles. We were the onl;y two girls in the class and we were also the worst ones of all. The 8 guys had all had ample experience but just wanted to get their out of state licenses converted to Texas ones. All we added to the class was a regular infusion of estrogen to detoxify the testosterone fumes to tolerable levels. How I passed is beyond me. The teacher probably lived in fear that I'd have to repeat the course and he'd have to, once again, deal with my clumsiness. Damn those things are heavy. Swerving, sudden stops, tight U-turns, S turns--ARRRGGGGHHHH. SO hard. Actually, everyone thought the U turns were a bitch. They all did poorly, but at least they got better. I got it right just once and that was the practice run before the road test run. That time, I tottered through it crossing every red line I wasn't supposed to cross, moving so slowly my bike, my body and my nerves were shaking like a scared rabbit. But, I did pass, believe it or not! All this to ride my Rukus to Starbucks once in a while. Hmmm. Makes ya wonder.