I spent today learning to ride a motorbike. Number of crashes =1, number of crashes with engine turned on =0. The instructors were skeptical about my abilities. Every time I didn't completely cock the task up they over zealously congratulated me and themselves. But my skinned knee and palm (because of course my gloves were in my pocket) make me feel a little bit tougher than perhaps I should.
Tomorrow I attempt to get my learner's permit. I suspect if I can just remember which lane it is that I am meant to be driving in, I should do fine. My typical driving mantra "I am in the middle of the road" doesn't work so well on a bike.
The whole family is about to convene in Melbourne. Dad is currently here and thinks learning to ride a motor bike is much more reasonable than moving to Kenya. Mum is firmly holding onto 'riding a motorbike is only okay because I will be doing so in Kenya' and Thomas doesn't give a shit about any of the above. As Jamie says.. there are many different ways of showing love...
Oooh. reading "Fear of Flying" and while is was written well before I was born I am enjoying it immensely. More later.
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