Finally, it is day three; it began with me feeling strong. I had no ill effects of my previous day's battle with physics and the indomitable law of gravity. The arnica worked its magic and my sprains were a faint memory while my bruises, which should have been extensive, were coin sized and not bike sized. The muffler burn looked scary, but felt manageable and not distracting. This day, and all days in the future, I will wear chaps. Note to all: if ever you get a second degree burn, tend to it sooner than asap. They get worse with each day and I didn't deal with it until day 4...it's that stubborn streak in me, again. I felt confident; I knew where the controls were, what the "right touch" was for clutch, breaking and shifting. But balancing at slow speeds would continue to challenge me. The pics are my fellow lady student, Margarette, a awesome single woman from NH who had her own bike but no "real experience" with it. She asked the best questions as she had enough experience to know what was hard to do; all of it! The other pic is most of my class ready to mount up for an exercise. All of these patterns were designed to teach the multi-task skills of managing a motorcycle safely for any unexpected road condition. We started with weaves again; a slalom through the all orange, cup size cones. Left was easy, right was still very hard. I fought to get my body in the right place on the bike and negotiate the turns in a higher gear. The speed was great, second gear is so forgiving compared to first. This went well and then the instructors were grinning. Next we had to do the "box turn"; a small 20' circle at one end of a 40' by 20' box, it required a very slow speed. I could do counter clock wise easily. But to do clock wise, I went so off course that Jay was startled. No matter how hard I focused, heard their encouragement, I only succeeded once of eight attempts. Not good. But I could advance to the next exercise. Big high speed (third gear) arches and turns. I discovered, I was good at speed and did well both ways. But then the entry control for sharp turns. Left was hard but successful, right was undoable. I couldn't stay even close to the course. In the real world, I would have hit guardrails, or trees or little kids on the sidewalk. Frank was the one who approached me. I was vexxed and couldn't make my body do my brain's will. I could not execute his directions, safely. He stood in front then to the side. Spoke quietly when he said, "you're not meeting the objective...." I didn't get it; I'm not good at reading between the lines. I looked exhausted and puzzled. He said it again, more carefully: "you're not meeting these objectives; its not safe to continue." "I can see that, I just can't find the right place to put my balance for the turn..." I tried to explain, but I knew what was coming. "I want you to shut it down, put the side stand down, and dismount...you can not continue in this class..." His considerate instructions. When I performed the shut down, my last shut down: 'Thumb: kill switch off, Key: turned to off, Valve: fuel valve set to off', I dismounted, glanced at the odometer to see it read: 17 miles, it seemed like a hundred. I pushed my visor up and asked if I could give him a hug. Swallowing hard the failed dream, "thank you, for keeping me safe" as I hugged his shoulder. "that's my job", his confident reply...he said I could stay and watch all I wanted, take the written test for my permit...I was wilting like a flower as he spoke. I ambled to my car, peeled off helmet, chaps and gloves. Called my sweet biker man and left a message that I'm excused and will be home earlier. Maybe, if he was up for it, we could catch dinner, go for a twilight ride and a creeme. He had programed his phone to answer me with a love song. I smiled and leaked tears ~ sad to lose the dream, happy to feel so cared about. I pulled out my soccer mom chair and watched the group tweak their skills before the lunch break. Fast stops, road hazards, brake-straighten up and sudden stop in the curves. I would have dropped it, probably, in this one. I was tired and felt defeated by a brain injury that cannot process the precise cues that riding safely, requires. I pondered how much of my poor performance was due to coming with zero experience and having to learn every thing from step one in a fast paced, intensive program. . . how much was because my brain is broken, more than I can fathom. When the group broke for lunch, Margarette came over and gave me a kind, sincere hug. "We were all routing for you," Brushing away tears, I said that "at least I learned here and no one got hurt. You all look really sharp out there. I called my sweetie and hopefully, I catch a ride with him tonight..." She graciously reminded me how fortunate I was to have a sweetie, she had no one, just endless bad boyfriends...that's why she opted to ride for herself... On that note, I opted to depart, and not stay on to watch the class test. I just wanted to go home and begin the next day when I might feel better. I had my family, my farm, and my honey-what-loves-me. I'll ride with him often and savor the view over his shoulder while my arms hug his waist. The BRC was a challenge for me: could I, or could I not do it. In a safe place, with wonderful people and awesome instructors, I could not. I wanted to pass the test; but I had no intention of owning or riding my own bike. I started riding so I could make friends and discover places. I have gotten all of that and more. I have a precious friendship with a sweet man on his gleaming bike. I think, maybe, that's right where God wants me. I "Monday morning" analyze the whole experience every time I hear a bike thunder by, but I know this was the "best-for-me" outcome... its hard to be stubborn, if love kills slowly then I hope that is a really long time for me, in the company of very precious friends...low wave and peace to all ~ ell
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