I hear the easy way of doing things is amaaaaazing.
Me though? Trial by fire. All. The. Way. That’s why it’s called Trial by Fire bitches. Because if it was called “Trial by Fluffy Bunny Rabbits”* it wouldn’t be worth doing. If I’m going to learn to do something it’s going to be hard and mean and a real renameyourpethamsterandpouryourchocolatemilkonthefloor bitch of an undertaking.
Which is why The Universe decided it was important that instead of this bollocks about “learning incrementally” and “step-by-step” approach to riding, the heavens should part and dump some brimstone on my poor n00b bike riding ass.
I checked the weather report. I budgeted the time. And yet, 10 minutes into a nearly 3 hour ride home, something hit my visor. Then another thing. Then another. Things that were shaped an awful lot like oh holy shit you’re kidding me rain.
As it got colder. And darker (country roads don’t have streetlights little city mouse). And wetter.
But like the fucking champion I am, I did it. So if you saw a very very (very very) wet person on Saturday night (and you may have, since I single-bikedly cut across most of the GTA), driving along with their visor up (so. much. rain.) and a gleam of crazy in their eye, possibly shouting something like “AHAHAHA I’M ALIVE! I’M ALIVE!! GO BIKEY GO!”, that was me.
Still. One of the better moments of my life? Pulling into the parking lot.
One of the other better moments? Submerging hippo-like into a very hot bath. Until it got cold, and I got out to order motherfucking chicken wings and onion rings, because when your hands look like this You. Need. Chicken Wings. Like. Now:
P.S. That’s a total fucking lie.* “Trial by Fluffy Bunny Rabbits”?! How fucking awesome would that be? Think of the robes alone! Gavels made out of carrots?! Would they be tough but fair? Cruel and mercurial? What would the bribes look like?! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.
P.P.S. Fight, win!