Happy Birthday Aaron!!!11

You old now. Heh heh heh.

Mar 28, 2003 @ 4:28 PM »

Friends and Family

Lessons learned

I don’t post much anymore, because most of my days tend to be the same. And it would get pretty boring to write the same thing every day, let alone read the same thing every day.

This weekend, however, was out of the norm for me. I took a motorcycle safety class. It was something Dale and I had discussed in the past. He thought I’d have fun, as he did, and we both thought it would help me to become more familiar and comfortable with motorcycles. (Dale even hoped I’d like it so much that I’d want to get my own bike.) Plus, lots of places will give you a discount on safety gear if you’ve completed the course.

The class didn’t live up to either of our expectations. I didn’t have fun at all, and in the end, I failed the test, thus rendering the whole course a waste of time, effort, and $150.

I’ve never wanted to drive a motorcycle. Until last year, I’d been afraid of them, never having even ridden one until Dale got his bike in August. Since then, I’ve ridden with Dale numerous times and have come to enjoy it. I still didn’t want to drive one on my own, though. Dale got me on a stand-by list for last weekend’s class. I ended up getting the spot, but as Friday night (the first part of the course) neared, I wanted to go less and less. Dale pointed out that the class had already been paid for in full and was non-refundable, so I went.

Friday night was several hours of classroom lecture. The main instructor was entertaining and funny, the videos we had to watch were predictably awful, and I left knowing more than I had going in, but I still didn’t want to get on a bike the next day.

Saturday, I made sure to get out to the riding course early. About 20 minutes early, as a matter of fact. By 11:53 (start time was noon), there was still no one else around, not an instructor nor a student, so I drove back over to the classroom. As I was heading in, I passed the instructor heading out. He told me there had been a change of plans and we were doing the classroom portion before the riding portion that day. Nice of them to call and let me know.

The classroom followed up Friday’s lessons and ended with a test. I finished the 50 question multiple-choice test in about 5 minutes, but I didn’t want to be the first person up and out of the room. I played with my pen for about 10 minutes until someone else got up and put his test and question sheet on the front desk. I followed suit, then went out into the hallway as we’d been instructed.

As the first three of us went into the hall, the instructor went back into the classroom. He must have began grading the tests right away, because several students later, one came out with several tests and passed them out to their takers. I didn’t get mine, nor did one of the guys who’d walked out at the same time as me. This went on for a little while, until almost everyone was in the hall. The instructor popped his head out and said, “those of you who haven’t gotten your tests back, just hold on a bit longer.” One of the others who hadn’t said, “we must have either done really well or really badly,” which was what I’d been thinking.

Finally, we were all called back into the classroom. After getting seated, the instructor asked who hadn’t gotten a test back yet. We raised our hands, then he said, “Well, congratulations. You all got 100s.” Then he added, “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many perfect scores in one class.” I was relieved, because that meant I got to go on to the next part of the class, but I knew that knowledge and actual use are two very different things. Reluctantly, I drove back to the course with the rest of the class.

Once I was in gear, on the course, and straddling a motorcycle, I completely blanked out on how to even start the damn thing. One of the instructors had to show me where the ignition was (way over on the side, not on the top of the tank like Dale’s bike). Then I couldn’t remember what all the elements of FINE-C were to go through the start-up routine. Frankly, I was thoroughly freaked out.

I made it through the next four hours without crashing, falling, or dropping the bike. I learned to shift up to 2nd gear and even got the bike up to 15+ mph. I learned to turn slowly, then with more power and speed. I learned to stop. I learned to always mount and dismount from the left side. I learned how easy it was to stall my bike. And I decided that even if I survived and passed, I did NOT want to ever drive a motorcycle.

The class was physically very challenging. The bike was heavy, and my arms, legs, and fingers are short. I couldn’t keep my wrist in the proper position AND work the clutch. I couldn’t put both feet on the ground without my thighs getting pressed agaist the squared-off edges of the engine cover. I kept forgetting to cover the clutch with either the first two fingers or all four. It was just easier to use the last three, letting my index finger rest on the handlebar. By the end of the class, my arms were so tired and sore, it was hard to stand the bike upright for mounting.

When I got home, Dale asked me if I’d had fun. I told him that I hadn’t, not at all. And I really really really didn’t want to go back on Sunday. Dale was dismayed that I disliked the class so much, so he told me not to go back if I really didn’t want to, but we’d already paid for it, and I’d invested so much time and effort, I thought I might as well.

I woke up sore and was still sore by the time I got to the course. Most of the class was a little early, so we got to warm up a bit, driving the perimeter of the course, until the last person arrived. Sunday we had a different instructor, not the funny guy and girl of the previous two days. The first exercise we did involved weaving through cones set on the ground. I could handle one set, but the one on the other side of the course were a much deeper stagger, requiring more speed and quite a bit more lean. I couldn’t manage these, and numerous times I’d put down my inside foot to keep from falling. The instructor pulled me aside.

“Do you like your feet?”

“Yes.”

“Do you use them a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Do you use them every day?”

“Yes.”

“Then if you want to keep them, keep your feet on the pegs. Stop putting your feet down.”

He went on a little more, telling me to keep my knees tight and blah blah blah, and it was good advice, and I know he said it all for my benefit and without malice, but I was already stressed and scared, and it made me cry. I managed to hold back the tears until I was away from him, though. And I don’t think he noticed the rapid blinking behind my sunglasses. I almost called it quits then. If the first exercise was so bad, how would I make it through the rest?

But, I didn’t quit, and the rest of the class went better, for the most part. The instructor and his assistent (cone-monkey) both commented that I should be having fun and needed to smile. The problem was that I still wasn’t having fun. At all. I was still very jerky with the clutch, stalling out frequently. And, most often right when the instructor signalled for me to proceed through an exercise. By the time we had our second short break of the day, I was thinking that I might actually pass the riding test at the end of the day. The instructor knew I wasn’t enjoying myself, as did most of my classmates. The few I chatted with tried to be encouraging and they were pretty nice.

When it came time for the test to begin, I was pretty damn nervous. The instructor laid out the rules; committing an ‘unsafe act’ and laying down the bike were automatic failures. For some reason, I thought that putting a foot down was also an automatic failure.

I was second to last in line, so I couldn’t see many of my classmates as they went through the first skilltest. When my turn came, I started out wobbly, made it through the cone weave (I think the back tire ran over one), then completed the tight left-turn. As I circled around to get back in line, my classmates cheered me. The next step was simply riding down the course and making a right-hand tight turn. I drove down, started into the turn, and then lost the bike. I can’t even remember what happened, except that the bike was going down. So, I dropped it, hopping free. Fuck.

After making sure I was ok (physically, I was just fine), the instructor told me to go over to the curb and sit down, then he’d be over to talk to me. The cone-monkey walked my bike over and parked it. I made myself stop crying before I pulled off my helmet. Then, I had to sit and wait while the instructor took the rest of the class through the remainder of the test.

He finally came over to talk to me. Suggested that I either retake the driving portion of the course (probably could get a reduced fee, but finding a class that wasn’t full would be tough) or that I schedule private lessons ($40/hr, 2 hour minimum). I told the instructor that I didn’t plan to drive anyway. I’d only stuck it out to get the discount for my safety gear. We shook hands, then I walked across the parking lot to my car. I got inside, called Dale, told him what had happened, and started crying again.

I was mostly angry at myself for fucking up and wasting $150 and something like 14 hours. I was angry at the instructor, because I didn’t like him as much as I’d like the other ones. I was also a little angry at Dale for being kind of pushy about taking the class in the first place, but I tried not to take it out on him, because it had also been my idea, and it’s not like he made me take the course. In fact, he’d tried to discourage me from going back on Sunday because he knew I’d been so miserable during Saturday’s class. When I got home, he let me cry some more and talk, then he brought me a snack and tucked me into bed with a book. I ended up trying to take a nap, but I didn’t sleep very well. Dale talked me into getting out of bed and getting cleaned up, then he took me out to dinner and a movie. At the restaurant I started to feel a lot better.

I am still disappointed that I failed the course. I’m angry that I put so much effort into something I didn’t like at all, then blew it all with one mistake. This whole incident has convinced me that I should leave the motorcycle driving to Dale, and stick to being a passenger. At least I didn’t get hurt or hurt anyone else.

Mar 24, 2003 @ 6:02 PM »