Warning. This post is going to be contain a whiny section. Just so you know...
On Monday, 5 Jan 2009, I officially started working on 2nd shift again. In and of itself, it's not so bad other than having to learn to share the bed again. Jax and I have been married for over two years, but since I have worked 3rd shift most of the time, we have only actually slept in the same place at the same time for a total of maybe 5 months, including weekends. And now we have to fix some bad habits that we both have. For example, it's a lot more comfortable to sleep right in the middle of the bed, but that doesn't work out so well when there are two people there.
:::WARNING! WHINY PART COMING!:::
However, Monday itself had lots of unfortunate things happen all within the space of an hour. First off, it rained all day. Since Jax works until 2 and I have to leave for work by 1:30 (1:20 is better) and we are down to one car (seen below) no matter what the weather is like, I have to ride the motorbike. I like motorbikes. I like them a lot more than most people consider to be natural or healthy. I have ridden them in weather that most people consider to be downright stupid and unsuited to motorbike riding. Monday was one of those days. The temperature never really got above freezing, and it was raining all day. Those of you with experience in such things will soon figure out what that means.
Yeah, it was freezing rain. We live in Little Rock and I work in Conway, which is about 30 miles away. The roads weren't slick due to the temperature being about 70 two days earlier, but they were soaking wet, due to the previously mentioned rain that happened to be freezing. So I already knew it would be an unpleasant ride, but I packed a change of clothes for when I got to work and figured that would be that. Sadly, that would not be that.
As usual, I was running a little late when I left for work. I was leaving right at about 1:30, which is enough time for a normal day, but not always enough for account for weather. But there was another problem: I was low on gas. The bike has a low fuel light that illuminates when I have about a gallon left, or enough for about 35 miles. When I had parked it last, it had already been lit for 7 miles. As mentioned previously, I work about 30 miles from home. I figured I would have just enough time to stop along the way and get enough gas to get me to work. But my plan was thwarted by idiot drivers. I attempted to make good time, but was thwarted time and again by people who feel they have the right to drive 55 in the passing lane just because it's raining. Some even attempted to help me realize that it was cold and raining by gesturing in ways which I could only interpret at meaning "It is slick. You are going to die for riding a motorbike in this weather." I responded by passing them. But by the time I was at the last stopping point for gas before getting to Conway, it was too late to stop. I was really hoping that I would make it. I was hoping that just this one time I might make it just a little farther on the last few drops of gas.
As I passed the "Conway 1 Mile" sign on the interstate, the bike sputtered and died. I managed to coast along another quarter mile or so before I was really and truly stuck. As my options were somewhat limited, I hopped off and started pushing.
The manufacturers of these sport bikes make all sorts of claims about how lightweight their bikes are, and they really are. Mine only weighs about 400-425 pounds. But the handlebars are so low that pushing them really isn't very comfortable, especially if you are 6'1". HOwever, since I have already had two motorbikes stolen, I wasn't very keen on leaving it sitting by the highway while I walked to get gas. It seemed unlikely that anyone would steal it that day, but I am kind of a wuss when it comes to keeping my motorbikes in my possession now. In fact, our little joke when we get back from a trip to anywhere, even the grocery store, is to say, "Still there!" in reference to the bike still being parked at home on the patio with the locked gate.
After pushing the bike only about 3/4 mile, someone stopped who happened to have a little bit of two stroke gas, which I gratefully accepted. Two stroke gas has oil mixed in, due to the nature of two stroke engines requiring it. It is not ideal to run it in a regular four stroke engine, like those found in cars and most motorbikes, mine included. But it beat the poo out of pushing that daggum thing any farther. So I got about half a pint of this gas, which was enough to get me to the gas station half a mile away, where I filled up the tank. The bike smoked a little bit, but otherwise it ran just fine and has continued to do so since then.
When I finally got to work, I was about 30 minutes late. I suppose the moral of this story is to go ahead and risk being 2 minutes late by getting gas rather than ending up being 30 minutes late because you ran out. It also really helps me appreciate how much nicer it is to ride the motorbike on a clear, sunny, warm day. When I got to work, I could barely see through the visor on my helmet because it was iced over. My jacket was also covered in ice. I had to scrape some ice off the ignition to be able to put the key in, and I couldn't use my mirrors at all that day due their being covered with ice. I didn't even bother breaking the icicles off the bike because I figured they'd just be back later anyway. But at least it stopped raining and the roads were almost dry when I came home that night.
The ice finally melted Tuesday.
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