Motorbikling

 
In the spirit of effective time management I scheduled a mid-life crisis straight after my 30^th birthday. It’s best to get these things out of the way then I can just relax my way through mid-life. As proof of my premature existential panic, I bought a motorbike. I had enjoyed riding on the back of one before so it wasn’t completely out of the blue but it was quite out of character (which was the general idea).The split down the middle of my personality rumbled and cracked under the strain as the curser hovered over the ‘confirm bid’ button on eBay. The captive prisoner of fun prevailed and I bought a Suzuki GN125. I was initially exhilarated and extremely pleased with myself for being so impulsive (in quite a drawn out way). I envisaged myself riding down open roads in the sunshine, pulling up to my destination and unleashing my lioness mane, shampoo advert style.  This dream-bubble was abruptly burst when I saw myself in the mirror for the first time with all my kit on. I’d got some motorbike clothing free with the bike. Unfortunately, the former owner was a man so when I got the oversized leather jacket and gloves on I looked like I was wearing my dad’s clothes. I topped this look off with a pair of geek glasses and a helmet with the word ‘climax’ emblazoned across the front.

I love lots of things about my bike: her classic style and short stature (draw comparisons if you will). I like how I can still get both feet on the ground when I’m sat on her and how I can pick her up by myself. It’s a good job really because these are things that have become more and more necessary as I’ve got to know Suzie Suzuki. She is a changeable and temperamental creature with a cruel sense of humour.

I could mention the time she broke down in the pissing rain leaving me stranded miles from home. Or the time she wouldn’t start at 6.30 in the morning making me miss my train. Or the tightly sprung side stand that makes it almost impossible not to drop her every time I attempt to park. No, the experience that sums up the perseverance and determination required to be a free-spirited motorcyclist is my attempt to get to a work meeting this week. I greeted Suzie with a knowing smile and braced myself for whatever test she had in store for me. She wouldn’t start. I live on a slope so I pushed her to the road, put her in second and ran (sort of) down the hill on the bike and slowly released the clutch at the optimum point. Nothing.  I pushed her for another ten minutes to the top of the next hill. I did the same again but this time on a much steeper incline and…. ‘lift off’, she was running and we were away. Ten minutes in and I had to stop for petrol. She was warmed up by this point so I didn’t think this would be a problem.  Wrong. She wouldn’t start. Opposite the garage loomed a road leading up a hill. I took a deep breath and set off. The sun was beating down on me, prime conditions for pushing a motorbike up a hill in full leathers and a helmet! She started on the way down and we were on our way again. After a few minor hiccups, I arrived at my meeting late, hot, red and sweaty. That’s the kind of professional image I like to portray.

She started first time after the meeting but half way home she was back to her old tricks and, in the middle of a busy high street, she conked out at a set of lights. I was on a hill at this point so, after pulling over, I decided the only thing to do was to pull back out into the traffic and run down the hill on the bike to try and bump start her again. I gave it my all but only succeeded in entertaining numerous passers-by with my frog-like running style. By this point I was quite near the garage that I’d stopped at earlier and…the hill. The sun was even stronger by this point and I could already feel little rivulets of sweat trickling down my neck as I reached the foot of the hill. I reached the top and, after getting my breath back, I set off down again. Nothing. Not a sausage. This was a low point to be honest and she nearly had me beat. The lack of options open to me and the small group of people gathered watching me at the other side of the road spurred me on. Up I went again……and on…..and on….further up the hill. I had to stop five times on the way but I reached the top and almost dropped her from sheer exhaustion. Off we went and near the bottom she started up and gave a confident roar that said, “What this? This is easy!” She took me all the way home and rode like a dream the whole way. I think she knew I’d reached my limit.

Suzie has taught me a few things about myself: that I am capable of pushing a motorbike up the same hill 3 times, that life isn’t a shampoo advert and that character traits like being care-free and spontaneous don’t come on wheels.

Did a motorbike change my life?

When Suzie is on form I really love the feeling of flying down the road, leaning her round corners and accelerating till she starts shaking. These things, and the fear of dying horribly in a biking accident, make me feel present in the moment.  Despite the trials I have been through getting from A to B, owning and riding a motorbike has to score quite highly on changing my life, with points deducted for making me face my true-self (both in the mirror and metaphorically).

Rating: 8/10

Comments: Not quite the fantasy I had in mind but certainly a challenging experience that has changed my life for the better. Suzie has made me realise that I do have the capacity to enjoy the moment even if she makes me work for it.

Development Opportunities: Get a motorbike that works?  

Roller Disco

After receiving a pair of retro-rainbow-roller-boots for my 30th birthday, I was ready to hit the road - literally! I did a few laps around the local park before eating a tarmac sandwich. Undeterred, I persuaded a friend to come with me to a local roller disco. Do we go to the cool one for uber-trendies or the cheesy one at the old ballroom? We opted for cheese and we weren't disappointed. We passed a neon sign proudly announcing 'The Tower' as we giggled our way inside. A make-shift roller-rink with a challenging array of carpeted, stepped seating areas lay ahead of us. Michelle hired a pair of skates and I smugly went to put on my own pair. Having your own pair implies that you're not just a tourist passing through, you've moved into roller-ville and you're there to stay! You're like the mayor of roller-city! Such inferences were soon destroyed as I got to my feet.....briefly.

We negotiated the many carpeted steps to the dance floor like two new born foals who hadn't got used to owning legs yet. We arrived at the wooden floor and stood watching the daunting circuit of speed-skaters, drunk students and roller-virgins to the sound of 'Boombastic'. We saw a gap and courageously leapt in to the fray. I did a very convincing impression of an aeroplane with it's tongue out (for extra concentration) for a good few hours and thoroughly enjoyed myself the whole time. You'd think going round in a small circular pattern for hours might get boring but they already thought of that. After an hour they make you go the other way. That had us back in 'foal-mode' for the rest of the night. I consider myself to be an intelligent person but I couldn't apply the rules I'd learnt about how to turn right to turning left. I was run off the rink by an over-enthusiastic speed-skater at one point and as I waited for a gap to jump in and rejoin the race, I saw Michelle coming round the corner. She had a look of pure concentration on her face that made me wonder if it could be possible that she was also enjoying herself.

It got busier as the night went on until it was just one big roller-traffic-jam. A group of students all sporting fluorescent tutus insisted on holding each others hands as they wobbled round the rink. As not one of them could skate this meant a pile up of raving ballet dancers on wheels approximately every 30 seconds. As soon as they were up, they were down again - all of them. Funny lasted till about the 4th time then mild annoyance was quickly followed by roller-road-rage. This was definitely not in the spirit of the roller disco. Badly done Amelia.

An air of confused reverence grew as the DJs asked us to clear the floor and make way for....something or someone, it was all a bit muffled. The 'Britneys' and all the men in matching T-shirts started line dancing on wheels! They were frankly upstaged by a group of girls pulling some Beyonce moves later on but at the time we were very impressed.

The wedding disco DJs, the dated decor and the lady-skaters dressed up like 'Brittney' school girls took me right back to my youth when I used to go to Roller City' in Rochdale. I loved that place. I loved the darkness of it, the thrill of the speed-skaters as they nearly took your arm off, the Slush Puppies and the 90s dance chooons! Apart from the Slush Puppies (which were sadly missed), it was almost exactly the same. 'I've got the key, I've got the secret' was followed by 'This is the rhythm of the night'. Entering into this time-warp, I felt two things simultaneously: that I was the same as my 14 year old self, that the passage of time is illusory and age immaterial and, secondly, that the uncanny similarity of the two experiences highlighted a slight but pronounced difference and that difference was me, my 'olderness'.*

*This is exactly the kind of over-analytical thinking that makes it difficult to fully embrace the wanton-abandon of a roller-disco and why it is so important to me to release the 'less thinking, more doing' femme-fatale of fun trapped inside me!

Did roller disco change my life?
All in all, it was a really fun night full of giggles and a roll down memory lane. There were all sorts of people there, there was dancing on wheels, there were cheesy 90s dance tunes and a great atmosphere. On the other hand, there weren't any Slush Puppies, it was way too busy after 11.00, it was expensive and I wasn't brilliant at it straight away.
Rating: 6/10
Comments: Fun, but not enough to turn me into a fun person.
Development Opportunities: Combine roller disco with hula-hoop dancing (detailed later) and be the first super-flexy, hula-sexy, hippy on wheels!

What's this blog about?

Welcome to 'New Things Tried and Tested'. This blog is about all the new things I have tried in the last year and to what extent they have changed my life for the better.

With a short attention span and an ever-present need to live a fulfilling and stimulating life without much clue as to what that might entail, I frequently launch myself into new interests, hobbies and fleeting passions in the hope that they will be the answer. The idea is that these brief obsessions will be the key to unlocking the joyful, carefree and fun-loving woman trapped inside the controlling and over-thinking one in the driving seat. I am also optimistic that I might happen upon some latent, natural talent that has gone previously undiscovered. "All this time I should've been a cup-cake baking belly-dancer! Thank goodness I found out before it's too late!" This natural ability will then, of course, grow into an all-consuming passion which will become the focus of my life and add a sense of meaning equal to having ten children...who all discover a cure for cancer. I'll be like Van Gogh - I'll cut off an appendage if that icing isn't right!

I'm going to tell you about some of the new things I've tried and tested in the last year and assess how much they improved my quality of life, provided a sense of meaning and fulfilment and helped to free the incarcerated fun person serving a life sentence inside.