I apologize. Posts haven’t been coming on any sort of schedule or even semi-regularly. I do love blogging and I am trying to keep up with it. I used to be able to complete a post by doing a couple of paragraphs a day here and there when I had spare time or when I ate lunch at my desk at work. Not so much now. Spring also means lots of yard work. Which I hate. So when I do have a minute, I might prefer to chase the sunset on the back of a motorcycle.
I only have my temps right now, which doesn’t allow me to ride past dark, so no solo sunset cruises for me yet.
Every spring, on those first few rides of the season, I always forget how much I love being on a motorcycle. There’s just something so unbelievably awesome about just going… It doesn’t matter where, just go out and play “Left Right.” You take random left and right turns until you don’t know where you are, then try and find your way home.
It’s not always about the destination,
sometimes it’s about the journey.
The thing that I love the most? The smells.
In a car, you can’t smell the things you smell on a motorcycle. Fresh-cut grass, hay, farms. Even the smell of laundry as we ride through our neighborhood is enough to make me smile and breathe a little deeper.
We put almost 200 miles on our bikes over Mother’s day weekend. Most of those were back roads and city streets. After a long ride with my sister and her fiancee DJ, I hopped on the back of Travis’ bike and we took the back roads from Columbus to Marysville. I love night rides. It’s especially amazing once the lightning bugs come out!
We took back roads because I’d never been on a highway on a bike yet… But Saturday night, I experienced the highway for the first time. It was different. I didn’t like not being able to communicate. Highway speed is 70 mph and the sound of the bike at that speed is so loud you can barely scream over it. The rural highways were ok, but once we got into Columbus onto 270, traffic picked up and it got louder. You can guess, I’m not a major fan of uber-loud pipes.
Loud is one thing, but the bikes *cough*Harleys*cough* that are so loud that rattle your teeth out of their sockets are ridiculous. They sound like someone riding a fart machine on a bull horn. Get outta here!
270’s surface is also pretty sketchy. (Though, nothing compared to Michigan’s highways!!) This time of year, it still resembles the crater-riddled surface of the moon, thanks to winter. We’ll probably continue to ride side streets when we can, but long trips back from LoCo (Logan County, where I grew up), we’ll probably suck it up and take the highway home. It shaves about 30 minutes off the trip which makes my back and butt happy at the end of a long day.
After the long rides over the weekend my back was bothering me, but no more than usual. Jump to Wednesday night while getting ready for bed, I leaned over to pick something up and it felt like someone walked up behind me and put a shot gun against my lower back and pulled the trigger. I tried to just go to bed and sleep it off, but when I rolled over in the middle of the night I must have twisted wrong and the fiery feeling came back ten-fold. I screamed bloody murder and woke poor Travis up from a dead sleep and scared the hell out of him.
It took me over three hours just to sit up and then get out of bed. Once I finally did manage to get up, I couldn’t stand up straight. We decided that probably wasn’t normal and went to the Doctor’s office Thursday morning. Apparently I tore some muscles in my lower back. The fire feeling was the muscles actually tearing. Gross. I’ve been on anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxers since and am better, but still not 100%.
Also on our plate this month was our best friend Rob’s wedding,BEST WISHES to those two! Travis was the best man, so you know what that means…
We rented a cabin a few weeks ago and took Rob and the rest of the groomsmen out for a weekend. There was a lot of alcohol involved. Particularly 80 ounces of “premium malt liquor” (2 King Cobra 40 oz. taped to the groom’s hands) which he consumed in under 2 hours.
The end result? The groom locking himself in the bathroom, while vomiting Taco Bell and sugar cookies into the bathroom sink. That was a success according to the groomsmen. I was just there to act as Den Mother to cook and make sure nobody died or burned the place down. That was a success on my part.
Especially considering one of the groomsmen has a habit of playing a game I call “Shit-faced Kitchen,” where he pretends he’s Julia Child when he’s loaded, and make things only drunk people would eat, but then he doesn’t eat them. Normally I wouldn’t be concerned about a grown man in a kitchen alone, except did I mention he once passed out drunk after putting pizza rolls in the oven? When his roommate woke up the next morning to a smoky kitchen, she luckily turned the oven off before anything terrible happened. Well, other than to the pizza rolls, which resembled charcoal briquettes after 6 hours in the oven.
On a less bro-ish note: This weekend, Travis and I are heading off for our 6th Annual Memorial Day Extravaganza! (I chronicled one of our other Memorial Day trips in one of my other posts about the Boat from Hell.) This year we needed something easy, so we rented a cottage up on Lake Erie in a little village called Geneva on the Lake. People have been vacationing there for over 100 years! “The strip” is lined with parks, restaurants and arcades. There are several wineries in the area too. I’m looking forward to checking out a new place!