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I've been trying to ride the bike as the weather allowed all through the winter. 34 degrees? Well, okay... at least start it up and ride it around the block until my knuckles are numb. On the days I wasn't sick, that is. No, smartyboots, motorcycling around in the Winter had nothing to do with being sick. 20 degrees? I'm not that dedicated or well-equipped. With the weather in Indiana warming nicely, I've taken every opportunity to hop on for a spin. Noontime. Evenings. Whenever I could, for as long as I could.
Last weekend, I visited my daughter at Valpo, and (of course) she passed her cold on to me. I'm managing it with everything I can throw at it to prevent it from evolving into a serious case of bronchitis, but it hasn't stopped me from riding.
Yesterday, I'm on an extended ride, when my decongestant fails catastrophically. I can feel epic snot bubbles forming in each nostril. They're starting to jiggle on my... what's it called? That little groove on your upper lip? My philtrum. You know the sensation. You're wiping your upper lip right now, aren't you? It's a reflex. I know I can be a man and either snort it all down the back of my throat... <ulp>
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Excuse me... I have a very sensitive gag reflex. I can snort it all back, or I can forcefully blow it out all over the inside of my full-face helmet. Neither of these options is going to work for me. I pull out of the lane and over to the grassy median, yank off my helmet, and, in full view of afternoon rush hour traffic, mightily blow one, then the other nostril out on the pavement. I tried not to look up at the traffic around me.
Dealing with this cold for a couple of days, you'd think I would be carrying a pocket full of tissues. I was not. Refusing to soil my textile jacket or my jeans, I dismounted and wiped my hands off in the grass.
I am SO proud.
Like most of my misfortunes, I lived to ride away from the scene.
Last weekend, I visited my daughter at Valpo, and (of course) she passed her cold on to me. I'm managing it with everything I can throw at it to prevent it from evolving into a serious case of bronchitis, but it hasn't stopped me from riding.
Yesterday, I'm on an extended ride, when my decongestant fails catastrophically. I can feel epic snot bubbles forming in each nostril. They're starting to jiggle on my... what's it called? That little groove on your upper lip? My philtrum. You know the sensation. You're wiping your upper lip right now, aren't you? It's a reflex. I know I can be a man and either snort it all down the back of my throat... <ulp>
###
Excuse me... I have a very sensitive gag reflex. I can snort it all back, or I can forcefully blow it out all over the inside of my full-face helmet. Neither of these options is going to work for me. I pull out of the lane and over to the grassy median, yank off my helmet, and, in full view of afternoon rush hour traffic, mightily blow one, then the other nostril out on the pavement. I tried not to look up at the traffic around me.
Dealing with this cold for a couple of days, you'd think I would be carrying a pocket full of tissues. I was not. Refusing to soil my textile jacket or my jeans, I dismounted and wiped my hands off in the grass.
I am SO proud.
Like most of my misfortunes, I lived to ride away from the scene.
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