I was sweating as I struggled into my boots, jacket, helmet, gloves, jeans.  And if the truth be told, swearing a little bit, too.   I told Jynnie, "I remember how much fun it used to be to ride before you had to dress for war before jumping on your bike."  Memories of the Sisters we'd met at the 2007 Rally passed through my head:  lovely long hair caught back by bandannas, fringed sleeveless vests flying in the wind, young ecstatic faces.   Well, I'm not young (65 in June), I don't have long hair, and I don't have a fringed vest.  But I do have good sense most of the time.

   I saddled up and prayed there would be no red stop lights on hills when I reached the small city (Columbus, MS) just across the Mississippi state line.   Just the thought of sitting on an steep incline causes me to break out in hot sweat and my stomach to contract.  This does not prevent  me going into hilly cities but I do have vivid visions of slowly rolling backward on my bike, trying to keep it upright, running, and God help me, not falling down.

   Ahhh, I made it and said an exuberant prayer of thanks, actually two of them, when I hit the flat, even streets near my appointment.  The kids were getting out of school so I obediently wobbled along at 15 MPH while watching carefully for some youngster to dash in front of me.  There were long lines of cars on both sides of the two-way, two lane street, parents waiting to pick up young'uns.  There was another line of cars on a side street, waiting at the stop sign for a break in the traffic.  I watched a young woman in a new Taurus approach the sign, ahead and on the right of me.  She stopped, looked conscientiously to her right, and still looking right, pulled in front of me.  Let me see now, should I just lay the bike down (that might hurt), swerve to the left (that'll hurt for sure as she will run over me), swerve to the right (I'll really get hurt as I'll be sandwiched).  So I did the correct thing and drove right into her.  (I DID do the correct thing, didn't I???).

   I sprang up from the hot asphalt , acting as though I did this trick on a routine basis, as I had quite an audience.   I hit the "kill" switch on my bike, remembering the only thing that came to mind from my Motorcycle Safety Course.   As I was performing for a crowd, I thought I'd really wow them by taking off my helmet and letting them see my gray hair and wrinkles.   As I stood around waiting for the cops to make their report, I sang tunelessly (of course) "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" to get sympathy and was rather amazed when one of the officers sang after me, "...by a Taurus!."

   I survived my hit with only bruises and a scraped up Yamaha Silverado 650 with 1, 143 miles on it.  And I did so because I had on all the apparatus that I had earlier fussed about.  My helmet was scratched, proving I would have hit my head if I had been wearing my wolf bandanna instead; my gloves were scuffed, having saved my hands, and I don't know about the injuries to my jacket (which has protective pads in all the right places) because I can't bring myself to look at it yet.

   The excellent article, "Survival Mode - The Human Element," by HogWoman says a lot about being especially careful in intersections:  I want to encourage my Sisters to do something that wasn't given much shrift in the article - please, please, please think about safety over beauty and the air through your hair.