Scooters and Directions, Oh My!!

I take a couple of online courses at the City College of San Francisco, a fairly souped up version of a community college. Yes, I have a Master's Degree but I can now take classes in whatever I want.

So, this semester I'm taking Beginning French and Astronomy: the Solar System both online because I'm still trying to put an internship in somewhere. At some point. If I can ever find one that doesn't interfere with my work schedule. Ha. I see that happening.

In any case, some online classes have a mandatory on-campus orientation, some optional. My French class was optional but I decided to go and it was fun. My Astronomy orientation was mandatory and was today. So off I went to attend. I really like the teacher and wish I could take it face to face. It's also a very mathy course which I'm not looking forward to but should still be interesting. I'm not so attached to the grade in this or the other Astronomy course I took last semester by telecourse with the same teacher. I love teachers willing to swear in class. He's got a good sense of humor and I have always believed that humor makes learning more fun and also makes it stick.

When I came out of the orientation, I noticed I had three missed calls and one voicemail on my cell phone (I had it on silent). So I checked it and there's my husband: "Uhm, it looks like the scooter was stolen, I've made a police report, give me a call." My heart just dropped out of my chest so I called back howling, "What!! Oh my gods!!!" He went in for coffee, came out and it was gone. He wasn't sure if he'd left the lock on or not. I was so upset. Nice new scooter and my personal means of transportation (shared between us but he has the truck) and with the need for a new car on top of this and not knowing how my insurance worked with this kind of thing, I was near tears.

I know that the old, past trusty red scooter wouldn't make it to work as trustily as it used to and definitely not to the supervision group that I need to start going to in order to make up the MFT hours that I'm going to start losing on January 31, 2008. I mean, look at it, it's held together with red duct tape (to match, of course). It's smaller than the new scooter and feels and sounds like your riding a lawn mower. I don't know how I ever rode that poor thing. I don't know how I ever waited so long to get a new one.

The new scooter is very highway capable and could make the 45 minute to an hour drive down to the supervision meeting. Even after I dropped it, it's been trundling along without issue. In fact, it started up right after the accident, again without issue. It's bigger and more stable than the old one, with bigger wheels and engine. And, damnit, we practically just bought it. It doesn't have tape on it. We still owe Marty's mom a bunch of money for it, well, all the money for it. And to me, the thought of having to figure out another means of transportation as well as owing this money for a bike that might never be returned, being afraid that my insurance would not cover any of it (which it does, thankfully, a good reminder to know one's policy!!), and having to get a new vehicle for Marty... well, I was petrified.

But I tried to marshal myself as I drove home (I had the truck due to recent rain). I tried to come up with different ideas such as the city car share programs and I also had the thought to carefully ask my husband if he remembered properly where he parked it. It's not an off base question. There have been times, not often but they have happened, that we've come out of a restaurant or various venues and he's turned the wrong way to go off to whatever vehicle we had parked. So I was going over the question in my head, playing out different ways of asking it, because I know my mouth and energy get pissy even when I want to control it. "So, uhm, I'm only asking this as a 'be certain' kind of question, but are you sure you parked it where you thought it was taken from?" and etc.

So I get home and see my husband walking up towards the house with his motorcycle helmet with a sheepish look on his face, saying as I get out of the car, "Uhhh..." I say "You forgot where you parked it?" and he says yes, this is so. He apparently had called while I was driving home but my phone was still on silent. I burst into tears on the spot. It was a bit much to deal with.

So I drove him over to where he said he remembered he had parked it and there it was, sitting patiently, waiting for us, with the lock on. I think we both gazed upon it in intense relief. I know I certainly did. We drove home in convoy, parking and locking the bike at home. We were both wiped out by it all.

So that was the bike incident.

On another note, some folks asked me for directions while I was walking to the grocery store and I was able to point the way with ease. In my mind that means I'm a San Franciscan. My city that I know how to tell others to get around in. Woot!!