VROOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!!!

I completed a two day motorcycle riding course offered by the Motorcyle Safety Foundation.  Here is the result.

It was a loooooong two days.  Actually, this is the work of a recently deceased Tucson artist who worked in metal and discarded items.  However, if I did ride anywhere other than the football sized range on which I practiced, I would most likely closely resemble the image above.

And yes, I did indeed pass both the written test and the range riding test -- evidence above.  If I lived in Arizona, I would have trotted down to the DMV this morning and exchanged this piece of paper for a motorcycle endorsement on my driver's license, making it legal for me to ride a motorcycle of any size, shape, and form not only in the state of Arizona but anywhere in the U. S. of A.  Given that I had the lowest passable score on the riding test of any person who'd ever taken it (I may be exaggerating but not by much), I agreed in writing, using my own blood, to never, ever take the handlebars of a motorcycle within the state of Arizona.

If I don't get a motorcycle, though, what am I going to do with this cute little sticker?  Suggestions accepted.

My class was intime, to say the least.  For most of the course, there were only three of us.  Here are two of my fellow students as we face our written test.  No wonder Jacki has such a dour look.  For me, of course, the written test was a breeze.  I'd typed out the practice questions in the back of our book, then typed in the answers, complete with page number where each answer was located.  I highlighted the answers in red, and printed three copies, one for each of us.  Can you spell a n a l?

One of our two instructors, who looks as if he's assuming the persona of evil testing person.

And the second instructor, out on the range.  Course format was about 8 - 10  hours of classwork, and about 8 - 10 hours of riding instruction.  Instructors are certified by and follow the curriculum of the Motorcycle Safety Foundation, although the course itself is offered through Pima Community College.  Fortunately for me, the West Campus where the range is located is about three miles down the road.  I say fortunately because we began at 6:30 AM.  Both instructors participated in both class work and range instruction.  And, again fortunately for all of us, we were a very small class.  I say fortunately because, as a student on the range, I self-classified into the severe developmental delay category.

All the stuff on the table and bench is mine.  I'm a wuss; I don't like discomfort, such as comes from cold, wind, and rain, all of which we had on Saturday morning, our first day on the range.  With me I had extra pants, shirt, and dry socks.  The dry sock thing is genetic.  Daddy said that after the invasion of Okinawa, when the Marines had to wade ashore from their LSTs, the first thing he did was pull out a pair of dry socks and put them on.  On this day in April but an almost wintery Saturday morning, I was wearing sweats under water-resistant pants with a warm lining, and four layers on top.  Except for my hands (I was wearing crummy left-over gloves from previous students), I was warm!

Sunday morning on the range was sunny and became warm, but at 6:30, it was still chilly, especially when riding, even though I'd barely make it up to 15 miles per hour (aka the fear of falling factor).  Here I am stripping down a bit, having removed the sweat pants, a few top layers, and am now putting my shoes back on.  Beautiful, beautiful day.

And a happy me.

The riding range is the size of a football field, and sits just down from PCC's instructional buildings.  We could run up to the buildings if need be, but why waste precious riding time?

When students arrive, motorcycles are ready.  Otherwise, they remain quiet in a beat-up cargo container, along with helmets and crummy gloves, if a student lacks them.  This makes it possible for someone like me, who lacks a helmet, to be able to ride.

#10.  Mine own for range instruction.

Sweet little machine.  Just my size.

Jackie and Larry await range test scores.  I didn't think I would pass the range test, as I'd gone so far outside the box that even Boss in Cool Hand Luke wouldn't have been able to find me.  The box is a rectangle within which the rider does two U-turns, entering one end and exiting the other.  I'd actually managed one very good box during practice but during the test couldn't do it with three tries.  Regardless of whether or not I passed, I was thrilled that I'd actually finished (and with minimal whining), especially given the miserable weather on Saturday.  My fellow classmates had least some riding experience, and had done well on the range, and I knew they'd pass.  The instructors had assumed I'd want to be the last person to test, and were a bit surprised that I wanted to go first. 

Notice how beautiful the weather is:  sunny, clear, no clouds.  Contrast that with the day before:  miserable, wet, rainy, cold.

Instructor expressing his feelings about having his photo taken.

Class photo!!  The young man on whom I have a strangle-hold joined us only for Sunday's range instruction and testing.  His class had actually been cancelled about halfway through because the weather got so bad.  Apparently, that's a rarity.  He was reluctant to join in the photo but he had no choice!  My fellow students were very kind to me, in my ineptitude.  Thank you to them and to our intrepid instructors!

Don't Tell My Mother that I'm a Motorcyle Mamma!

When I lived in Tucson about a million years ago, I earned many passenger miles on a Honda 305, nicknamed Moby, since it was white and weighed a ton.  I toted up about 1/4 mile as moto operator, the first time found me and Moby in a ditch on Mt. Lemmon.  The second time I had the courage to rev it up to second gear as I toddled around the block in sheer terror.  Neither was what I might term a major success. 

Now that I'm out here in my later years, I decided to go about this learning-to-ride-a-motorcycle in a more systematic way, as befitting a retired college professor:  I signed up for a short course offered at Pima Community College and taught by an instructor certified by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation.

My charger awaits me!

Our intrepid instructor, who's logged over 100,000 miles on two wheels with a big engine in between.

Goo

One of my fellow students, who looks about the age I was when I was out here a million years ago.

She, her friend, and I were the only students, a student/teacher ratio which I definitely appreciated.  And, they appeared with proper gear, including helmets, gloves, and leather jackets.  Their husbands both own motorcycles.

 And then there's moi:  borrowed helmet, borrowed gloves, no leathers...though it was much too warm for leathers.  I soon discarded my vest.  Our instructor was adamant that before we even mounted the motorcycle that we be wearing our gear:  long sleeves, gloves, helmet, and eye protection, either a visor or glasses.  Since we were not leaving the safe (relatively) confines of the ring, sun glasses were OK.

Proper gear on.  Bike locked.  Stand down.  Mount up.

Good form in the mount up.  Wheel turned properly.

Note Mountain Rose shirt. What the well-dressed motorcyclist is wearing today.

A confession:  We never went higher than first gear, riding in circles around the training ring.  For those few motorcycle novices out there, most motos have gears....and a clutch....and two brakes.  While the concept of clutching, gearing, and braking is similar to that of a manual transmission automotobile, the clutch is at the left hand, one brake at the right, and the accelerator is on the right handlebar.  The gearshift is at the left toe.  What we do in a car with our feet, we do on a moto with our hands.  I had to practice a new system, to habituate my brain to a different way of doing things.  It was great fun, but also tiring, so riding in circles in first gear, practicing shifting to first, going a short way, slowing down, and braking was actually sufficient unto the day.

Attesting to successful completion of my "Motorcycle Experience."

And now I'm ready for.....NOT!