No one wants to remove all of their comforts and go sit in the woods pretending it’s fun. – I want to go camp on a barrier island. – I want to go camping, somewhere. – I want to sit in the woods by a fire and sleep in a tent on the ground. I would like to do this in pretty surroundings but I am becoming desperate.
Two weekends from now I was thinking of going to camp in Pensacola. When I mentioned this to my parents my mother remarked that surely I had someone going with me. I lied. I don’t imagine being able to get anyone to go with me. Not even at a beach. I imagine ”Why don’t you just get a room?” would come up in the discussion. …No one wants to go camping. No one I know.
I am, actually (no need for Mom’s question), afraid to go alone. It is the only thing that has stopped me; I have all the gear. Camping is probably be less fun alone. But in honesty the only thing that has kept me away is that I am a petite, not unattractive, female, and I would be very visibly all alone. No secure walls, or doors with locks. Perhaps having worked in tv news for so long, having made too many mug shots of victims and criminals, of having been aware of too many missing young female stories where no good end comes.
Perhaps I will ask my friend (who told me she had one) to borrow her BB gun, or pellet, I don’t remember. A high-powered one. I used to have one or two when I was little. I liked shooting guns. Well, I liked being a good shot anyway, “Eagle-eye Annie”. I wonder if I’m still any good. Might my keeping a small rifle (bb gun or not) visibly at my side dispel possible malignant interest? Or am I just a silly girl, desperate, and wanting to trust people’s better natures so that I could be less afraid of doing things alone. (There is not a question mark, b/c sadly, it’s not really a question.)
I don’t know what I will do. Probably sit out another camping season, with all my fun gear closed up in a closet, unused.
The seat of my chair is in disrepair. I am unsure how to go about re-attaching the loosening straps (webbing) that support cushioning.
Eleven months ago I managed repair in a must-needs kind of way. In desperate need to distract myself from an emotional ripping, I pulled it away from my desk and tore away old upholstery from the seat, the cracking vinyl came easily off in large strips and orange dust filled the air and fell to the floor like sand. I hadn’t known so much of the cushioning inside had disintegrated. (germane to my emotional state now that I am remembering it.)
I wonder how old this chair is… I came across it one evening sitting out on the street, abandoned to garbage pickup. It’s wooden lines simple, sleek. I think I loved it before even I finished the approach. Perhaps it is that someone just didn’t have room for it anymore, or purchased a new chair and this one matched no others in the house. Placing it out on the street surely they knew it would be adopted before the garbage collectors came in the morning. I believe that is what most of us know/hope happens anyway.
I stood looking at it, admiring, mustering the nerve to claim garbage from the street… finally I picked up the chair and brought it inside to a new home. It has been greatly used and loved ever since. I’ve forgotten how many years even.
(sigh) Now the thick cotton strapping that supports the bottom is weakening and coming loose. The lovely thing needs repair again. Real repair if I can learn to do it.
I can learn to do just about anything (I say “just about” because I haven’t tried to do everything and I don’t want to lie). Though it’s hard to learn new things, very hard sometimes. I think it is why people don’t often do it (myself included).
But I need a chair to sit in! It is a perfect height for my desk. (but mostly, and very simply, because I love it.)
The sun is out now, it was raining when I started writing. I don’t know how this makes me feel. I was enjoying the rain.
Now it is going to be just another sunny day.
It seems as if I have sat down (this reminding me that I need to fix it) and wrote about my desk chair… in so doing I have also ended up with a description of my own state of my being.
I feel like making my usual joke (Leo, ego, narcissism) how it’s all just really about me. *wink-wink* But I don’t feel like it.
The sun is out, it is noon, why spend my time joking… I’ve got work to do and I need to learn how to do it.
——————- MONDAY, JUNE 10, 2013 —————
NOW I UNDERSTAND why I thought the chair was so attractive even from a distance as I approached! haha…
Stamped on the underneath of the frame is “PRECEDENT BY DREXEL” and “225-4 CHAIR”. Of course I Googled it…
Notable designer, Edward Wormley, in 1947 released the Precedent Collection for Drexel Furniture.
“Wormley created 100 pieces for the Precedent collection, combining the essence of modern design with tradition. His work was featured in the Good Design show at the Museum of Modern Art in 1951 and 1952.”
Now I guess as I reupholster, I will be mindful to not do a quick & easy “must-needs” job of it this time. (It seems my chair, as myself, are sought after works of art. ahhhahahahaha)
(Wednesday, May 15, 2013 – 8:40 a.m.)
I don’t much listen to music anymore.
Except from the cars driving past, or waiting all in a line from the traffic light at the end of the block. Loudest stereo wins!
Occasionally it suits my tastes. But not often.
I don’t complain.
Once, a long time ago, I worked in a record store. I knew bands, I knew artists and the trail of bands they been in before or played with occasionally or side projects and ep’s they put out under different names. I liked almost every type of music and hence, had knowledge of it.
I thought I was cool. I was.
At some point I stopped caring. I stopped listening.
I don’t miss it… so far.
(Though sometimes I feel sad, or confused perhaps, because I don’t go to it anymore for my solace or encouragement, distraction, enjoyment.)
People probably think I listen to a lot music. Stark white wires always hanging from my ears. Ipod attached to my person in some way and in some form, a natural part of my ensemble.
Last night I finished a 15 hour audio book that I’d begun only the morning before.
I’ve consumed at least 358 books in the past six years.¹
It has occurred to me, strangely only now as I have written this, a reason why I do not, miss music.(!)
While I may have stopped listening to music, I actually never gave up the words.
I used read along with lyrics as I listened to my favorite music. The words were important to me. I liked music that said something I understood, felt, could empathize with, look up to. It wasn’t just melody or sound. It was the words I loved. The story.
¹ That is the count and the age of my Audible.com library anyway. Evidently I joined when my pleasurable distraction was turning to addiction. I’ve no idea whether that is a lot of books as compared to the masses. I don’t care. I try to keep only few printed ones on my shelves. (I still love to hold a book, turn it’s pages.) This year I acquired a Nook ebook reader. I have, since the discovery of audio books found encapsulating pleasure in reading along as I listen.
(Tuesday, May 14, 2013 – 7:48 a.m.)
I just spent a good half hour sitting on the floor in front of an open window taking photographs of a spider web. It was difficult; spider webs are elusive.
The low, rising sun made it shimmer enough to catch my eye as I sat reading, several feet away. Had it been afternoon with the sun high, I may not have seen it drifting back and forth in the breeze. Ever-so-subtle colors from the light glimmering along its fragile lines, like looking into cut crystal. It was just a tiny spider’s web. A mighty and amazing little thing.
Perhaps we see things better from angles.
If you know me at all. That is a good sign.
(The writing it down part I mean. *wink* Doubt I’ll be trying to afford Irish Cream in my coffee every day. Ha.)
In the shower just now, as I stood eyes closed standing very still in the streams of steamy water, I pondered other moments of catalyzing warmth. (snuggling into bed after your electric blanket has warmed the blankets up for you, standing close to a fire when it’s cold) These are moments when we are engulfed by heat and our brains and bodies become stilled and we either utter it audibly or think, “mmmmmm”… and for a few moments that is all we can manage. Like being lulled back into the safety and warmth of the womb.
This is of course when my brain interrupted asking (with complete innocence and without its usual all-knowing type of sarcasm), “Why is it that (seeing as you live in a tropical climate and are well experienced) you don’t feel this way when it is August and 100 degrees?” … I had no answer.
Then I pondered those people I know who revel in say, a long, tiring bicycle ride on a hot day, or another who goes to derby practice and relinquish themselves to torturous drills and exercise in a sweltering warehouse. …Sweaty, healthily exhausted, and glowing… …Again I had no response as I supposed perhaps I have forgotten those lovely warm delicious feelings because I don’t exercise anymore. Hmm.
After analytic consideration, I suppose they are not the same.
Catalyzing warmth; standing still in a hot shower on a cold morning.
The sun just came out. Like a bright idea it shown suddenly and very brightly.
*Pause… leaning towards window panes in order to look out at the sky*
Too bad the analogy I was hoping for doesn’t seem to be happening. Ah well, moving on…
It has (again) been sooo long since I sat here attempting to type… write something.
Surely that is what this is, typing practice. (I don’t know how to type properly, the classes didn’t work, I’m just a rock star of the “hunt & peck” style.)
This feels very nice though. *long breath and a sip of coffee* Yes. Very nice indeed. Just these few words and to sit here with my cat napping, nothing but the sound of cars passing, droopy not-so-awake-yet eyelids, and a still warm mug of freshly ground coffee.
ok… Think I’m done for the day. See you tomorrow.
Where the Moon is I don’t know, but it was ‘She’ who I so often before used to wake early in order to say ‘Good Night’ to.
I am glad she is off on a break from working. Hanging out at a beach and being with family. I feel good when I know she is happy. But it seems also, even when I get to be alone with my own thoughts for a few days that I am not, actually alone.
There are either no, or few enough people on the street this morning for an overweight, run-of-the-mill, general Joe, and most probably, perfectly nice white guy walk/jogging down sidewalk to be singing out loud to whatever is playing on his ipod. (I swear it sounded like he was saying “starbucks”… I hoped he wasn’t. I dislike Starbucks.)
AND it IS an ipod he is listening to… b/c of the tell-tale white earbuds. Why don’t they make them colors to match the pods, or at least give us a choice to be less visible, STARK?.. oh but why do that?? It is a label. When you see those white earbuds, you know they have an Apple in their pocket.
I resent the stark white wires advertising that I would be a vulnerable (deaf) target with an expensive treat in my pocket while I walk around the corner and down the block each night from my parked car to my apt. entrance. Always very few people on the street, sometimes I am completely alone. Occasionally I pull the earbuds from my ears and stow the wires away. But often I have found that I am too lazy, or interested in the story I am listening to, or… or… well you know how excuses go.
Sometimes I appreciate the bright, showy, white wires highlighting the fact that I may not hear you well if you speak to me. So please do not attempt casual, unnecessary conversation. Thank you but I would rather be listening to my book than having to respond. It disrupts my thinking.
My windows have been open all night. It is an overcast day and the breeze feels cool and exciting coming in the window. I like to feel the breeze on my feet. This kind of morning is my favored time to write. It is mornings like these the creative things come. Flow out of me, if I sit… and let them.
I’ve been seeing more scooters with a similar body style as my Clementine on the road of late. Or perhaps, it is just two (one silver, one black) and I am seeing the same ones because we live in close neighborhoods.
I suppose I don’t mind. (other scoots w/same body style) I SUPPOSE. *still pondering it* But I am not sure, as my instinct is to dislike other people having anything similar to something I also own and covet. (this just entered my head, the last line of Tigger’s song about Tigger’s when he first meets Winnie the Pooh: “… and IIIIII’mm, the-only-one!”
I was labelled once to be, less so a “lone wolf”, but rather… an independent story. I think I will always remember that.
Clearly, (hello narcissism) I loved the observation.
Watching people walk by, especially on mornings like this (Sunday, very few people. Shops closed)… is like spying.
Have you ever walked down a quiet street, window shopping or just looking around at things? You are not doing anything wrong, or inappropriate, just walking, looking in windows, talking with a friend who is with you? … You wouldn’t imagine someone might be watching. Watching as you stop at a shop window, some unseen person noting which ones you stop at and how long you look, examining the dog whose lease you might be holding onto or the way you are dressed (head to toe), forming ideas. Ideas/opinions that mean nothing of course. (Though, mind, they may not be, and generally are not, negative… as my deepest and most natural inclinations are kind.)
Would it make you feel ill at ease to know some unseen person is studying you? You may act the same. But I ponder the awareness alone could quicken your step. No longer stopping to peer curiously into windows, or you might not sing aloud, knowing someone you cannot see is watching, listening … It is why I use the word, spying.
I have jotted tasks on a notepad lying next to this computer. Things I need/want to do this morning. I want to get up from this writing desk and do them, soon. I wonder if I will.
It is so quiet on Sunday mornings sometimes I can hear the footsteps of someone walking below, on the opposite side of the street from my windows. But only briefly, because a car, or a conversation will pass by quickly enough.
Little claws scrape or prick my foot from time to time.
She knows I did not give her the entire can of food, she knows she gets the rest when I go back into the kitchen for a coffee refill.
I ignore her. She goes away. For a time.
I wonder if I should actually post these random thoughts as they are so that I may rise and get on with my morning. No grammar check, no rewording. (Translating the thoughts so that someone outside of my head might grasp a meaning or two from the randomness. )
Not much morning left, the grains of it slip so quickly through the tiny opening. I know this because I watch… sneaky little stream of grains. Mesmerizing.
Sometimes cars sound like scooters. My head turns to catch a glimpse as they pass. It is disappointing.
Scooters never sound like cars… and motorcycles are just too loud.
Ex-cept, sometimes the rice bikes, crotch-rockets, the… what else do they call them?.. speed bikes, street bikes… When cruising slowly past in traffic, they have a stealthy purr. I don’t recognize they are there until they are directly underneath my window. I do not care for the look of them (the style of bike) but I do appreciate Ninja stealth.
It is such a beautiful feeling, this morning air. Mesmerizing.I hear church bells ringing. Morning is gone.
I must go… *sigh*
I haven’t written on this subject since March. Wow. I really lied didn’t I? *sigh* Apologies.
I sort of moved up to a 2g stretch. I purchased a couple pieces and wear them occasionally. They are no problem at all to wear so I suppose I am a 2g. It is just that I often wear my 4g spirals just as often.
March, wow. I haven’t written on this subject, I haven’t written at all, on any subject. I hope I can locate some sort of free mental time again to do this. To write, anything.
March… That is about the time I began to really start seeing someone special. My life went topsy-turvy, most things in it changed. Little or no time for staring out the window and writing. Regretfully I admit it is still that way but am hoping to work it back it in somehow. Ohhhh, somehow
But I digress… I had wanted to update a bit on the subject of my stretched out earlobes.
I don’t have time to post some of the pictures I’ve managed to keep taking randomly but there are a couple things I want to say.
I have discovered that despite my attraction to saddle plugs I doubt I will continue to purchase them. I loose them
They pop right out without my knowing it in bed, while removing shirts, or helmets, or whatnot. *sigh*
Straight plugs also I almost loose because I’ve lost several of the o-rings that hold them in place then I realize it’s missing and “omg my jewelry could totally fall out and minute!” This has happened while washing my hands and looking in the mirror at work.
I must be abnormally rough my ears! hehe.
(Make sure match the o-ring size with the jewelry’s size, or slightly smaller, so they stay on. I know, that is of course the logical. But just… don’t ponder that just because this 2g o-ring seems to stay snugly on that 4g plug does not mean that it will, all day. *sigh* I have various sizes and have done that several times. Sometimes they stay on fine, sometimes I look up into the bathroom mirror and freak out because I realize I’ve quite nearly lost my jewelry. )
Because of these things I have become quite attracted to the plugs that have one side flared and the other has a screw on back piece. Not an o-ring. They’re generally a tad more expensive, but I doubt I would loose those
Spirals and hanging pieces are still my favorite. They stay in, and some of them are just pretty.
I have a couple pairs I wear often. One, black horn spirals with a white inlaid design. The second pair are carved saba wood hangers. They’re very pretty, I like them quite a lot.
Ohhh, and another thing… the sharp ends of these pieces are strong. They aren’t so fragile that I have to be careful of breaking the tips off.
I’ll post some pics so you might understand what I mean. It’s horn, or wood… they aren’t as fragile as they might appear.
These are just the things I’ve noticed in the past several months. Also, that stretching to a 2g from a 4g was noooo big deal AT ALL. I have much more to say regarding the details of that. The… my experience may not be like your experience and here’s why kind of things.
Due mainly to my not having attempted to stretch my ears for such a long time. They were in excellent condition, perfectly healed and skin supple and thick again. (Or, I think that is why it was no big deal anyway. I know it’s just one size up from where I was but… well… all I really have to go on is what I read/research and my own experience… opinion.)
I’ll try and come back soon
I just noticed I was incorrect to lament that I haven’t written on this subject since March. It seems I did manage to slip in a tidbit in September. Still no pictures though. *sigh* I have pictures. I MUST get some sort of me-time piddling back in my life, for pondering, for writing, for silliness and seemingly unimportant passions.
There is something appearing rather slowly.
Soon it will be so solid and encompassing that we exclaim how it “just sneaks up”!
Then it will be given a name, and people will sigh.
I feel happy today way down deep.
Felt it in the woolen socks I slipped over my cold toes.
Saw some in the shine of my cat’s fur as she lay in a sun-filled spot and I sipped morning coffee.
Let it in now if you can; it is seeping…
(akin to arriving late to a party and feeling the need to drink to “catch up”)
you may feel less like buying it later.
I have not “moved on up”… I became distracted…
by my girlfriend
and by scootering
and probably some other things but oh well.
I think I will remain at a 4gauge for awhile longer. I have been able to find some hanging pieces that I like and are 4g.
(I’d previously noted that many of the prettier, well-made pieces were at least 2g. It may be that I was not looking thoroughly enough.)
I *did* however order a pair of 2g spirals along with a pair of carved sabo wood 4g hangers that are on their way to me right now, so perhaps if I end up wearing those spirals more than anything else I’ll probably creep up to a 2guage. I ordered them in a 2g because I think that is what I want to do still. (go up to a 2g) but I’m in no hurry and am not totally sure. I also know very well that I can wear 2g spirals in a 4g ear lobe, just don’t push them around to the fattest section. (elementary) The sabo wood hangers are a 4g and I’ll probably wear them quite a lot.
Wood over amber first time around because I want to be able to just leave them in and I’m afraid I may break the amber ones in my sleep. Durability over fragility at least until I get used to having them or get used to removing them before bed.
I’m so used to wearing saddle plugs now I may not be able to wear the spirals or hangers to bed, ha. I mean, one does notice and occasionally feel the pointy end when tossing and turning and laying your head deeply into the softest fluffiest down pillow ever.
(I have mentioned before that I like soft, I like pretty, and I am a pain wuss right? Note it. All true.)
I’ll snap a few pics and share I am sure when they come in… you know how I love my cameras any excuse for a photo opp. That’s me.
Remember those fat-ended glass saddle plugs that for the longest time I couldn’t slip in without it being a stinging experience? (sigh) Yeh, I put those in one day I think shortly before July. Slipped right in without much difficulty. Proving again, that when it comes to the skin of your precious lobes, the longer you leave them alone at one size, the more supple and easier they accept the pushing and pulling of whatever jewelry you decide to wear. (Note: when shopping you’ll notice sometimes that certain kinds/pieces advise to not wear unless your lobes have fully healed, etc.)
I’ve been a 4g for I dunno, a year now. I haven’t tried to go further up. The only time I pushed it was when I tried to get those damned fat-ended glass multi-faceted saddle plugs in!! Forgot about them for the longest time, gave up on them really. Then one random day I thought I’d give them a quick try because they’d look good with whatever I was wearing… warm water, tiny bit of soap suds… pop, right in. *smile*)
Yes, just out of the shower like I’ve said all along, it’s the prime time. Anyway, I plopped the black horn saddle plugs out (they stay in quite nicely btw, not painful to put in, they stay in, not hard to take out. I’ll go ahead and say it… They are perfect saddle plugs. (black with abelone spiral inlay, they’re in my pics)
Hope this update made some sense I am posting without doing much of a read-thru. However, I thought an update was certainly due!
Must rush off for now though… girlfriend is coming home tomorrow after being gone for over a month, got a little straightening up to.
(oh dear, I just made a funny… ahahahahahaha)(straightening up… that just made me laugh. I’m such a nerd.)
Clementine has begun to occasionally lose power (hesitate). Sometimes it’s a couple of little hesitations and then she’s fine. Sometimes a couple of hesitations in power lead to slowing down regardless of whether I increase the throttle or not, she just slows, like she’s trying but just can’t, then dies. Nothing to stop her. It’s happened a few times now. Of course I pull over to the side of the road and have a little mental freak-out, is she ok? what’s wrong?? (Twice it happened not while riding but when I attempted to start her before riding. She turns over perfectly fine, just won’t actually start.)
If I attempt to start her after I pull over and she’s just given out, nothing. It tries, just doesn’t catch.
Each time… if I wait about 10 minutes, not touch her, then I try again and she starts and rides fine.
My plan to remedy this is to drop her off over at her mechanic and request he clean her carb, check the hoses, spark plug, etc.
BUT… IN THE MEANTIME, or… this morning when I woke early and felt adventurous… I wanted to take a look at the air filter at least, right? I mean, before I dropped her off I was curious to see just how dirty she may be up in there. So I figured I would take a look. I didn’t even know where the air filter housing was or if the filter had ever been changed. (I know! that’s horrible… I know.) *sigh*
But I knew it was supposed to be easy and one of the first things to check. So, I did…
AND this is NOT a filthy air filter!! I mean, it’s not, right??…
So I put everything back into place and started her up to make sure I hadn’t screwed anything up, she purred fine. Going to go drive her to work in a bit. Hmmm
Just yesterday I notice an emphasis of rentability for a building across the street that has been available for many months now. There were FOR RENT signs, three, one on the door and one placed in each of the large front windows and I thought, “Is that more than the usual amount. I thought there was just one, or two. Hmm, they must really want to let people know it’s still up for rent.
Today I see workers going in to have it remodeled.
Part of me, ok most of me, is pleased because it’s about time someone was able to rent and pay for the sadly neglected little building to be made shiny & pretty. (at least I hope that’s what is happening) It’s always been ramshackle, ever since Metro Three was there when I first moved in to the windows across the street. After Metro Three left there were a few businesses that tried to take hold there but didn’t remain. But for nearly a year now it’s been closed up.
There is another tiny part of me however that is fearful of who/what kind of business has the kind of money to turn the place around. Typically it’s the flashy, useless kind. Selling overpriced products or services that cater to those who need to be seen wearing or utilizing overpriced products/services. … …(sigh). The world as we know it.
Please don’t trash up my block whoever you are.
UPDATE (Nov. 2011) :
It is a fancy clothing store.
I’m going up to a 2 guage.
Promise to post more often than I have been while doing this.
Lately I haven’t posted much because I’ve stayed at a 4guage for (?) I don’t know at the moment., would have to go back through these blogs looking at dates. Less than year I am sure. Regardless, there hasn’t been much to share. My lobes are in excellent condition and when I leave them empty for a day it’s still easy to slip my smaller saddle plugs in or the horn spirals (which are my favorite of all that I wear.) AND, the empty hole in my ear really isn’t that large or freaky looking either. (I say that because No, I do not care to have large saggy holes in my ears when I wear nothing in them.) In considering this, the decision to stretch on up to a 2g., I have even considered my future self, little 80 year old lady ears… oh yes I have, and I think I’ll be fine *wink*.
I do not however, think I’ll be fine when I’m 80 if I go up to a 0 guage.
So… To future self (aprox. one to two years from now) Please reread this posting and PAY ATTENTION.)
This past weekend I lost one of my amber plugs, and then one of my turquoise the next day! Pisser. Grrrrrr…
Was going to order replacements when it occured to me that what I really want are more spirals or carved hanging pieces, and what I was tired of is trying to be mindful while wearing the saddle plugs with the smaller flares and not slide or press things up against my earlobes!
I know, that sounds odd and not like anything that one does, but it is… (I’ve sad it before, it’s worth saying again) Pulling on and off tight shirts (yes, though you may be surprised), pulling off a motorcycle helmet (yes, most especially!!), during sex (yes, though you may however locate it somewhere in the sheets the following morning).
mmmm… I’ve already picked out and practically ordered the pret-ty, pret-ty spirals I’ve been wanting for some time but haven’t ordered because the smallest they came was a 2guage… mmm they will soon be decorating my lovely lobes… mmm
More to come *wink*,
It was a motorcycle’s revving beneath my windows that woke me.
But it is the Moon who’s lulled me into this wakefulness. Entranced by her attentions I finally rise & look out…
I find her, full.
Aglow with a panging for companionship.
“No wonder my shoulder still hurts”.
This was my thought last evening upon noticing a nasty little scrape on the shoulder of my leather motorcycle jacket. It’s located more on the top of the shoulder than front so I hadn’t noticed it the day before when I had actually taken the fall from my scooter. (Clearly I went down more head first than body.)
Yes. I fell off. We had a little crash Monday. Or, well… we didn’t crash into anything but the pavement itself. I was avoiding a nasty lil’ pothole in the road. Trying to rather, cannot remember whether I hit it or lost traction in my attempt to brake and swerve.
Yes, I applied both brakes equally, and yes, I was mindful not to turn the wheel drastically, quickly. I just saw the pothole too late and the road’s surface was probably still dewey from the morning.
Clementine and I are both fine, just a few scratches. Falls happen. It was a minor fall but a reminder that it’s a real thing that happens to us all and I am writing this down to remind myself and others the importance of remembering that fact. When we ride about in the summertime with shorts and half helmets (as we all do and I know we won’t stop doing it, not even I) to just try not to forget what *could* happen. It could be a scrape, it could be hospitalization, or worse. Scooters are awesome fun, but let’s not forget even riding a bicycle around town can be dangerous. Let’s always be mindful of ourselves AND others.
One of my favorite bumper stickers has always been:
“Start Seeing Bicycles”. (and joggers and scooterists and pedestrians and streetcars… all you people in automobiles.)
ok… I’ll stop preaching. I merely wanted to write down what I remember so that I may come back and read it from time to time:
It’s morning, lots of traffic (people on their way to work). I pull onto a side street with no traffic (thank Goodness! or there’d of been some slamming of brakes when cars spotted me and my scooter lying in the street in front of them). I’m starting to increase speed when I see a sinkhole type pothole in the road, a small but deep one. I knew if I went into it the front wheel would hit the steep wall of it at the speed I was increasing to (which may have only been 5 or 10 mph) I would be cartwheeled over. I remember pulling in the brakes and attempting to slightly swerve. I do not remember whether it was the dewey road surface or if I hit the edge of the hole that tipped me over. I do not remember what happened exactly or precisely how I fell.
The most vivid recollection, and this is the part that I mainly wanted to share with everyone, is the moment of falling, knowing it was happening, in those seconds… I knew my face was about to hit the pavement (yes, I said face, not head) I saw it coming, knew it was about to happen and I remember the loud clunk when my helmet made contact with the street, my eyes had been open still. As this happened, milliseconds before the clunk! my brain calmly stated: “Thank God I’m wearing my full-face” CLUNK!!!
I’m sure the sound of it echoed down the street.
My pretty face is fine, thank you for worrying *wink*.
I got up, Clementine was on her side, engine still running. Hit the kill switch, and stood for a moment, dazed probably, and hoping she was ok. I felt fine, my knee burned. Checked my jeans, there was no hole in the knee but I could the feel burning of the scrape and knew the skin would be bruised and roughed up underneath.
Trepidation mounted as I bent to lift Clementine from the street. She’s plastic ya’ know… I became fearful of seeing a severely cracked or busted frontpiece. She was ok. Still solid. Lifted her back up and pushed her over to the sidewalk to inspect closely and calm down.
The damage was only scrapes all along the edge of the legshield where I’m sure she took the hit and then skidded along the pavement a bit. A small piece of chrome edging was still lying sadlyand alone in the road. I went to pick it up and it was all scraped-up too. Not sure why but I think I placed it in my pocket. (I mean, it’s just a piece of faux chrome door edging one might trim the edges of a car door with.) Sentimental I am though I suppose.
I got back on, started her, and sat there for a few moments before driving off. Noticed the brake/parking lights of a black SUV parked just ahead of me on the other side of the road. After a few moments a prep school girl got out, crossed the street and walked past me, the unsure but concerned look on her face made it clear she’d seen it, or at least noticed the aftermath of it… we smiled at one another but didn’t say anything. I should have asked if she saw it happen. I would have liked to have heard someone describe it for me. I know she saw it happen. Oh well. I gave her a reassuring smile as if to say I was ok, she returned it and went on to class. With a story to tell I am sure. …I don’t mind.
When I got back home I actually looked at my helmet. Nasty scrapes. I took a couple photos because I had decided I wanted to post.
I very often mention to scooterists that they should wear more than just a half helmet. I’ve often wondered why shops seem to push the half-helmets to scooterists. Imprinting in our minds that that is the kind of helmet a scooterist is supposed to wear.
No, for real, I have always wondered this. Yes, I already know the answers. I suppose I have merely never agreed with them. I’m not one for taking my face for granted I suppose. hehe, being an admitted narcissist an all *wink*.
I remember when Norman Robinson (WDSU news anchorman) walked into my office one afternoon a year or so ago and asking me about scooters. Informed me he was about to purchase one, etc. (He does have a sweet one now, and still rides it to work when the weather is nice.) I also remember sadly noticing the expensive and very pretty leather trimmed Vespa half-helmet sitting on his also very pretty GTS300 Vespa the first day he drove it to work.
Specifically I had advised him, “just be sure to buy a full-face helmet Norman, the last thing you’d want is to have that pretty camera face scratched up.” I said it jokingly, but it was in my opinion, the most valuable advice I gave him. … Oh well.
No, he hasn’t scraped up his face. Yes, I believe he’s taken a fall or two. But the “what if” has just always been something I think about I guess.
I hope I don’t forget the vision of the street coming at my face and the reverberting sound of the CLUNK that happened as I watched through the visor my face streamlining for the pavement. (I will repeat… yes, I said face, not head. It happed that fast.) I am indeed thankful it is February and I was wearing jeans, gloves (which also have a scrape mark on the right hand palm) a sturdy leather jacket, and my blessed full-face “winter” helmet. Ohhhh Dear, Yes. Thankful it wasn’t summer when I wear a full helmet but not a full-face, when I wear shorts often, and rarely gloves. Thankful indeed.
I will add… this past summer I put shoulder armor in my Rally Patch jacket, I try to wear protective shoes/boots even with my shorts (yes, it’s a look, & I can rock it.) and I started wearing light gloves. Not a lot of protection I know but I say (as I pulled on my gloves in the summer knowing it makes me look like I think I’m some sort of badass when I’m only on a scooter. right? I feel kinda silly, but I started wearing them anyway.) The leather on the palms of my summer gloves is thin. Too thin for street riding as they are motocross gloves. But the street padded ones are never comfortable enough and I noticed I end up not wearing them as much. Anyway… I used to say (still say rather) that if I know I’m not going to wear the proper ones, some protection is better than no protection. (My summer gloves are totally cool looking, super comfy, and I enjoy slipping them on. That is a good thing at least.)
Just be careful out there my friends. That is all.
Mine was a small fall, a tip-over really. But my head and shoulder hit the ground hard. My hand clearly went out as well, as the scrape on my glove proves. Well, that and the bruising I can see under the skin. My shoulder and arm are sore. My knee has a couple little bloody scrapes. My neck is sore… but my skinny little narcissist’s face. Not a scratch.
I look at my helmet and try to imagine what would it have been like had it been my ‘Rock Star’ helmet I wear most of the time. If the faceshield would have busted to pieces and if my cheek or nose would have rubbed the pavement.
I don’t want anyone to be afraid to ride… I just want us to be aware of what could happen while we do and try to remain mindful of road rules, of not getting cocky in traffic even when some ass does something stupid, or the fact that even though scooters are Hella’ fun! and a most excellent mode of transportation… don’t take it for granted. You are on two wheels with a motor, and riding along in traffic, of course it’s dangerous.
oh. and watch out for large cracks in the road and potholes… they come at you quick, esp. if you’re riding at night.
I love you each & every one. Ride On.
I’ve long pondered sharing my knowledge gained in riding a “cheap Chinese scoot” successfully and happily (going on six years now) because they get such a negative beating in the ‘rep’ department. I agree much of the bad reputation is probably deserved, I have been lucky/smart enough not to have had a negative experience. Quite the opposite actually. So I’ve wanted for a long time to put a little positive say-so out there as well.
Hopefully I will find time to write in detail the pros and cons I’ve experieced. That is the plan. Until I write more, anyone is welcome to ask questions when contemplating what to buy, what to expect, how much friggin fun a scooter is to ride, etc.
Meanwhile… Here is a current photo (January 2011) of Clementine, my 2005 Baron Retro 150-R.
I adore her. She has treated me well.