Bruised Boobs, Neon Socks and Herman Munster Shoes

I stuck earphones in my ears and then encased my head in foam, rubber and hard plastic yesterday. It was so tight that every little bit of fat, muscle and skin on my head was pushed up toward my eyes and nose and made me look like a Shar Pei.  Yup, we went for a ride on the old motorcycle.  I pushed as much of my face as possible back into the helmet so I could at least see, but cheeks being cheeks, they weren’t overly cooperative.

The technique I used to straddle the Gold Wing is called ‘The Leg-Over-Head Ass Flop’ – I personally named this technique because no one in the history of Motorcycles has ever mounted a bike the way I just did.  I start about 3 feet from the right side of the bike, lift my left leg to shoulder level and then hop on one leg toward the bike.  From there, things become murky, and slightly offensive.  Luckily, I chose Yoga Pants as my riding apparel so I had the freedom necessary for the more difficult elements of my Mount. Also lucky that I put the helmet on before I attempted it because my head came perilously close to giving the handle bar a vicious head butt.

There are very few things in the universe that comes close to the sensation of a vibrating motorcycle between my legs. Rumble strips on the highway comes close but, generally speaking, I don’t spend a lot of time on rumble strips.  Sometimes though, to amuse me on long road trips, The Viking will drive on them for a while.  I could make up some statistics regarding the correlation between Motorcyclists and sex but I won’t because I can’t figure out if they ride bikes because they don’t get enough sex or if they ride bikes because it makes them want to have sex more often. Or maybe it’s both. Who knows? All I can say for certain is that My Lady Parts enjoyed the ride.  And while we’re on the subject, Harleys vibrate 183 times more than the Gold Wing.  I’ll just leave you with that thought.

Before we had even cleared the city, Apple Inc. decided to be an asshole. I have an iPhone 4S (what?! It still works!) and it has served me kind of faithfully right up to the moment when I needed it most. All my music, carefully sorted into playlists like ‘Road Music’ or ‘Toe-Tapping’ or ‘Music to Practice Conducting By’, is the single most important thing the phone ever has to do. Just play my damned music. But apparently my expectations were too high because it started cutting out and hints of The Viking’s music choice (Oh dear Gawd it’s AC/DC!) reached my ears. I dug the phone out of an inner pocket and wiggled the connection to the head phones and the music started up again and lasted only until I got it back in the pocket. After some trial and error I found that a slap to my left breast would remind it to keep playing.

As we picked up speed, My Lady Parts couldn’t distract me from a wardrobe problem. Yoga pants may have made my mounting technique easier but they did nothing for my sex appeal as a Biker Chick. The wind whipped under the fabric of the legs and made them creep toward my knees, exposing my less-than-lovely Herman Munster Getaway Shoes and neon green socks that completed my outstanding wardrobe. After some time I realized that my pant creep was directly proportional to speed – at 100kph, the pants flapped at mid-calf, at 160kph, the pants were flapping at my knees and my shoe laces were snapping my ankles. If The Viking could get the Gold Wing to 200kph I’m certain I would be completely naked.

My next issue arrived at about 120kph. The vibration moved up from My Lady Parts, centered on the tip of my nose and became an unreachable itch. My glasses, behind the full face visor, started migrating north until I was trying to see past the bottom rim of the frames. Not that it mattered really because my head was vibrating hard enough that my vision was useless. I did feel the thing that hit my right knee, though. Judging by the pain, I assumed it was a moose.

I couldn’t help wondering if there was’t a better way for The Viking to get the feeling of the open road without actually being on the open road. Couldn’t I just set a really big fan in front of us and I’ll cling to his back in the comfort of our living room? I could make vroom vroom noises to make it more authentic.  Or maybe we could sit on the Dryer during the spin cycle to get that vibration. I’m sure I could get the fan rigged up to provide the requisite wind. I’ll wait for the right time and then I’ll discuss this with The Viking. He might be open…..

Overall, the ride wasn’t totally unpleasant. Once I got past the fact that I looked like an enormous goof, it wasn’t that bad at all. Except for my vibrating nose – that was unpleasant! If they insist on making motorcycles into giant vibrators they should at least put nose itchers in the helmets. And, slapping my left breast; I could have lived without that necessity and thankfully it sorted itself out after a 100 klicks or so.  I hate bruised boobs.

So, with my music drowning out The Viking’s music, and sunshine on my face, I found myself enjoying the ride. I closed my eyes and just lived in the moment. We had a very nice lunch in Canmore and managed to make it home just before the thunderstorms rolled in.

I’ve decided that we can do that again, many agains if we want. Without the Yoga Pants. Not without pants completely because that would be wrong and I might get a ticket, but with other pants that won’t flap around my knees and show everyone my neon socks and Herman Munster shoes.