Motorcycle Mama? Hardly.

I had my first motorcycle training class the a few nights ago. And I'm all, Yikes!

I don't know whether to summarize the experience as:
What was I thinking?!
Why do motorcycle riders have a death wish?
Or, Vespa for sale.

For now, I am going to use past experience as my guide. A few years back I earned my SCUBA certification. It was very hard, very scary, and I really didn't think I could do it...but I MADE myself do it to prove something to myself: that I was neither a quitter nor a coward. In the end, I passed and not long after that I found I was no longer afraid of clowns. Bonus!

It would appear, however, I am afraid of motorcycles! And why not? The class is all about how dangerous riding can be. They talk about the freedom of riding in the open air, sure. But also the fact that you see more, and experience more, including but not limited to, injury and death.

I know people use extreme sports as a means of connecting with the true meaning of life. It's an addiction for some. They need to face death in order to feel truly alive. Yeah, about that...I don't need to face death to feel alive! I am having a hard enough time facing life. The way I see it, death is the can of Red Salmon (or for you vegetarians, the jar of Lemon Curd) in the pantry. It's there. You know it's there. You might eat it. But not today, thanks.

Vespa for sale? Nah. Death wish? Nah. Courage to face my fear? Right on! Ow!