So yesterday I went to the bike shed and sat on the Bomber. Extremely becoming in shorts and a t-shirt, lily-white legs and my bike boots. I needed to see how they felt (the boots, not my lily-white legs). They felt so good that I watered the garden in them afterwards, but I digress.
In the shed, I moved the Bomber back and forth. I tried holding up the stationary motorcycle with the left leg and then the right. Both were fine.
So last night, feeling brave, I phoned the Ancient Submariner.
"I reckon I'll be ok to have a little ride tomorrow," I said. "Will you come with me?"
Long story cut short - getting the Bomber out of the shed and down the Driveway From Hell this morning was really scary, but by the time I got to the end of my street I already felt more confident.
And then the feeling just grew!
After riding just a smidge under 300kms today, in gorgeous autumn weather, I think I can say I'M BACK! My foot was fine, my bum was sore, my soul was nourished. What a beautiful day! The autumn leaves that had fallen on the road just danced in the wake of the Ancient Submariner's wheels - it was so pretty! As for the beautiful autumnal scents... they didn't quite overwhelm the aroma of roadkill - crikey, so many dead roos.
And then this arv, Boomerang Boy moved back in, a week early! It's been an eventful day!
Boomerang Boy is my 25 year-old son. He is called Boomerang Boy because he just keeps coming back.
Having a "child" move home is always a bit fraught. You can't possibly fall back into the mother-child routine (shudder) after they've been living independently - and geez, why the heck would you want to anyway? I think it'll be great having BB here as a housemate, instead of getting a boarder who's a total stranger, and I'm sure we'll have some adventures. As long as we don't end up trying to kill each other.
Here's a funny thing: when BB was much younger he started playing rugby. I knew nothing about rugby and it scared me half to death (those necks, those spines, those impacts - those potential medical disasters - eeek!) But I faithfully went to BB's games because - well, because I guess I was trying to be a good parent??? Anyway... I still don't understand rugby. But I think it was probably good that I sat through those games, freezing my arse off and feeling like a complete numpty. I'm sure BB and I are closer as a result.
Actually, I'm not sure at all. But I'm glad I went anyway. Watching rugby wth BB and tryihng to make sense of it all, I fell in love with John Eales, the God of Rugby, and did a lot of drooling over late-night World Rugby Cup matches for a couple of years.
So anyway - since I started riding, and going to Phillip Island to watch motoGP, I've learned that BB is a fan of motoGP! From where I'm standing it seems like some kind of weird role reversal - BB is taking an interest in something I'm passionate about... I guess that means we'll be sitting up together late at night watching the races on telly - him cheering for Rossi, me cheering for Casey Stoner. Could be a giggle!
This has to be one of the weirdest mother-son bonding experiences, but I think it'll be an adventure. Of course, if BB decides he wants to learn to ride, I could be in strife - who the heck will look after the cats on my annual Phillip Island pilgrimage?