A Birthday Present to Myself

It's strange how things come to pass.

Back in the late seventies and early eighties I used to own and ride motorcyles.

On the first one I owned I was  coming home from a night club after a couple pitchers of beer and found myself wrapped around a street sign with the foot peg - rubber still on it - lodged in my calf muscle.  I swore I'd never ride again.

But did that stop me?  Of course not.  I was drunk as could be and in the visiting room at the Orange County Jail visiting my wife.  She was encouraging me to leave because I was so obviously intoxicated but I stayed until I slipped off the stool with a loud smack that drew the attention of the guards.  They immediately started chasing me, but because they were on the other side of the visiting room glass they couldn't catch me before I got to my Honda and escaped.

Even though the police weren't behind me I was going way too fast and ran head first through a wooden fence when I took a corner too fast and hit some gravel.  Inside the fence were about a dozen immigrants sitting around a bonfire drinking beer.  They immediately ran away when they saw a drunk Americano on a huge motorcycle crashing through their fence and ruining their party.

Another time I rode a dirt bike down a steep hill and ended up in the hospital.  After the doctor stitched up my injuries he said he wanted to talk to me about my drinking. I immediately checked out of the hospital.

But now that I've been sober 30 years I thought I would try another motorcycle.  The difference with this one though is that it's a three wheel 2016 Polaris and not as easy to wreck.  Plus, I have 30 years sober and drive much more carefully.

Besides I haven't bought myself a birthday present in years.

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