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Of course, come Monday AM I wander around the house chanting, "Motorcycle key, motorcycle keeeyyyy, where the FUCK ARE YOU ... oh."
And in natural compliance to the various laws (physical, chemical, murphical, etc), the thing completely fails to start via usual methods. Fast forward 24 hours and view, if you will, yours truly kitted up for a more serious attempt.
"Hmm, I wonder if the driveway is steep enough." I look like a right moron duck-waddling the thing at slow-to-middlin speed down the rather short, not particularly steep driveway. Yes, the thing is in gear. No, I'm not going nearly fast enough as I throw the clutch open. Buhgrmbbblepffh. Sigh.
Rather than accepting that I have just the driveway itself to work with, I throw myself into a frenzy of tossing garage-detritus about to clear a better run-up. I take a (pathetic) minute to let my programmers sedentary heart subside from backing the bloody thing the driveway. I stare at my nemesis, the all too short patch of concrete. I take a deep breath. I'll admit it, HuSi: I did a Tarzan yell. AAAARRrraEaarrrarAaaAAayahraaA!!!! waddlewaddlewaddleWADDLEWADDLEKICKOVERYOUFUCKER COUGHPUBBAHGROOMBLEPUHBUBAHBUB BUB BUB BUB BUB (etc) Now those of you who don't ride may think that bumpstarting a motorcycle is risky due to the jerkiness of throwing out the clutch. That part isn't so bad. Hitting those little plastic lane-dividers at low speed while turning is worse. No, dear reader, the dangerous part of bumping your bike is the point where you've got the thing started, you're pointed 90deg perpendicular to the flow of traffic, you don't even KNOW if there are cars coming cuz you aren't looking and you're throttling the fuck out of the thing trying not to let it die. Oh, and never mind things like a jacket or a helmet, either. Needless to say I parked it on a hill at work this morning.
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