this is not mine so i think i will touch it

My new bruises are truly quite spectacular. The right side of my body is going to up and leave any day now – there are scars and trauma all over the place, not to mention my dislocation-happy shoulder. When I fall, I tend to land on that side. I really ought to stop doing that.

It was the stupidest thing, too.  The four of us went for an epic bike ride on Saturday, going from our place on the North Shore, around Stanley Park, along Coal Harbour, then onto the Sea Turtle back home. I didn’t fall off my bike – instead, I tripped over a curb and went SPLAT on a sidewalk. It hurt like hell, but I was more afraid that I had broken my camera since I landed on top of it like the superstar I am. It was pretty fucked up, but Josh was able to fix it and it seems to be working fine. Just another typical day in the life – stupid accidents, more bruises, and another notch on the bedpost of wtf.

The weekend wasn’t all fun and gravity, though. Yesterday Ed and I discovered a) ANTS, and b) someone had knocked or tipped Sally over in the night and badly fucked up her right panel and exhaust cover, both of which had been replaced last year thanks to the geezer who knocked her over in front of our apartment building. Sally is all scratched to hell, and I am not amused. I took a ride yesterday afternoon and noticed that my mirror had been moved, but I just figured that someone was sitting on her again. I’m not quite sure why, but everyone in my neighbourhood seems to think it’s A-OK to sit on my scooter whenever the hell they feel like it. The grubby children across the street, the idiots upstairs, the drunken yahoos from down the street and the whores they associate with – all of them have taken it upon themselves to park their asses on my scooter like it was no big deal. I fucking *hate* it when people touch my stuff. Seriously, would you sit on someone’s motorcycle to see what it was like? Open up their car and sit in the driver’s seat? Pick up the back of their truck to see how heavy it is? Why the fuck do you think it’s okay to do it to a scooter? I hate people. Finding out that Sally was knocked over did explain why I found the kickstand on TOP of a half-empty beer can, but doesn’t do much to soothe my rage.

I rode in to work today because I didn’t want to leave the scooter at home for people to fuck with. I guess I’ve officially overcome my hesitation at riding again – now I ride, and I ride with rage. Are you me? No? Then DON’T TOUCH MY SCOOTER!

Grrrr!

9 thoughts on “this is not mine so i think i will touch it

  1. I asked one of my coworkers and he had two solutions:

    1) put plastic wrap on the seat covered in vasoline
    2) get those plastic pigeon spikes they use for parking garages

  2. I am shocked and dismayed that people sit on Sally! WTF?! I’ve never had any evidence of anyone touching my scooty, Elektra, but how do I know? No nasty scrapes or other damage is my only clue… I’m LOVIN’ the idea of vaseline. Makes me think of the time some bird decided to leave a ‘present’ on my seat. I’m going to construct myself some fake bird-doo to put on my seat when I’m not around! Pre-emptive strikes against random stupidity! :|

  3. Random people just sit on Sally? Did they have a brain tumor for breakfast or what? Seriously, what’s up with that?
    I’m totally for the vaseline idea. Or the fake pigeon-poo.

  4. You’ll be happy(?) to know that yes, this happens to motorcycles, too. Seriously, world: Fuck. Off. MINE.

    Maybe if I rode a big burly harley they’d lay off, because they’d assume that I was a 400lb Hell’s Angel who would cut them into teeny tiny pieces for even thinking about being in the same breathing space that I once occupied… but I ride a crotch rocket, so they assume I’m a 90lb asian guy with a small penis. :(

  5. BTW, I don’t drive up to Vancouver to sit on Sally. In fact, I think it’s quite rude that people are so presumptuous. I just wish I could drive up to Vancouver to sit on Sally. I’d ask first, though.

  6. Pingback: vacation postin’ day 2 « delicious juice dot com: unapologetically inappropriate

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