A Sissy Gets Her Motorcycle License

"Girly-girl" . . .

that's what the coach of my motorcycle class calls me.

How on earth did he figure it out so fast?

What let the cat out of the bag?

It's not like I bought a pink helment

{although it was a temptation, let me tell you.

I mean is this photo cute or what?}

But my helment is a sensible silver. So that's not it.

Could it possibly be that I 

cried during my road test?

What?

That's right friends.

I could almost hear Tom Hanks saying,

"Are you crying?! 

THERE'S NO CRYING IN 

MOTORCYCLING  BASEBALL!!!"

- THE scene from A League of Their Own -

{Although my coach was MUCH NICER.

He gave me a hug. What a relief. Ha ha.}

Oh my. 

Why did I cry?

I have to say I'm really tender-hearted,

but not often to the point of tears.

But getting my license has been on my

bucket list.

And I really wanted to do this - to do my best

and succeed. I was super emotional about it.

As the only female in the class,

I wanted to do as well as the guys.

Although a stinky thought entered my mind, 

"Maybe you can't do this. Maybe you should just 

stick with the stuff you're good at."

For instance . . . 

- "Buddy the Elf" - I can relate

. . . or spray painting stuff.

But, I blew my nose 

{of course I was prepared with tissues in my pocket} 

& persevered. My patient coaches

hung in there with me . . . and ta-da! 

I DID IT!

{But you may want to stay off the roads & sidewalks

for a while - I'm just sayin'. *wink*}