When I got the bike, I said to myself, I’m not going to behave like one of those boneheaded biker people I see everywhere. Everybody says motorcycles and scooters are dangerous, and they are, but most of that danger comes from sheer stupidity: inadequate safety gear, overpowered sport-bikes, riding on the shoulder or between lanes to cut in front of cars, speeding… Within a week I was riding around in sneakers (wear the same boots every damn day?) and a t-shirt, creeping up the shoulder to make a right on red. But I do have a good full-face helmet, kevlar gloves, and of course a bike with a 50cc engine, no acceleration, and minimal testosterone-stupidity factor.
But yesterday I managed to do two things that were breathtakingly boneheaded. First, I made a wrong turn and got stuck on Route 2. Route 2 has a speed limit of 65 and a practical minimum of about 70. My bike doesn’t go above forty. I was there for one white-knuckled, shoulder-riding, profanity-laced mile before I managed to get on the exit. Then, on the way home, doing 35 in a 30 zone, I got pulled over by a cop who noticed that not only was I speeding, but if I was going to be driving that fast, I’d need a license plate. A what? I’ve got a plate, it’s right… uh, well, somewhere, stolen or fallen on the side of the road. So today will include a trip to the RMV and a call to the police to report a lost or stolen plate. Joy of joys. At least I got off with just a warning on the speeding ticket. Who goes only 30 on Mass Ave?
Secretly Ironic 