I went back to the Hewlett-Packard parking lot, but I also ventured out on the neighborhood streets.

I'm too afraid to accelerate past 30 mph because I know from first hand experience that asphalt and my skin covered only by jeans is not a good mix. I know, I'm a ninny.

I just bought armored leather pants. I spent last night surfing the motorcycle pant manufacturers' sites, and there wasn't anything that I could see that didn't have "Thor" or "Rocket" in neon-colored BLOCK CAPITALS tattooed on the pant thigh. I'm not a motocross rider, I'm a beginner who says "oh dear!" when I find that I haven't down shifted far enough and trying to go from a dead stop out of 2nd gear isn't happening...

Anyway, Mota, the motorcycle gear store in Berkeley that I've been told is run by women for women appears to no longer be in business. There is a store in San Francisco called Femme Gear that appears to have what I think I want, but if I can save myself the trouble of finding parking in the city, I will. I called every accessory store in the yellow pages. Turns out that the Honda Ducati dealer that was selling the Rebel has a fellow, Ron, who manages the accessories department, and he specifically stocks women's gear. Ron is a straight guy, very nice, and very professional even when I showed him that I couldn't zip up the pair of pants he offered - my purple satin underwear was partially visible.

He showed me two types of pants. One pair sells like hot cakes, and believe you me, I could feel why - my butt never looked so good. But I wanted something to wear over jeans - and the first pair is supposed to be worn next to your skin. So I tried on the armored pants. Whowee - talk about protection! I bought the armored pants. Okay, VISA is going to finally make some money off me.

I took my bike out on Central Expressway - got the bike up to a whopping 45mph. I'm not looking for the thrill of sustained speed. What pleases me is the rapid smooth shifting through the gears, the sound of the engine, the acceleration, and the meditative-like focus. Oh god. This is good stuff.

There are no excuses now, I have to get on the road and deal with those darn moving objects.

I'm at a red light. The car in back of me is giving me impatience vibes. What I really want is a little robot that would deploy automagically from my saddle bag at every red light. The robot would give a little card to the driver in back of me that would say,

I actually rode to the office today. I figured out a route where I would make only right turns, and only merge with two lanes of traffic. I did have to cross railroad tracks, but at a safe 90 degree angle. My normal route (in the car) requires a left merge going up hill, and a right merge going down hill into a very tight cloverleaf turn. The cars are impatient. I'm not ready to do this. Not without my very own 1000-arm Kannon, waving high-res yellow-green semaphores to make people see me.

The elderly lady in the white Galaxy sedan turning right onto Middlefield did not seem to see me. I slowed down, and pressed my horn button. The bike has a good horn, not some pathetic little whiney bleep. It sounds more like a car horn. The elderly lady jumped a little in her car, but she saw me, and didn't pull out in front of me. Whew.

I know I got the bike into fourth gear today. Maybe I got it into fifth gear, but I'm not sure. Truth be told, I don't know how many gears this bike has. I ordered the owners manual from the Suzuki dealership right after I bought the bike, but it won't arrive for another week. I'm the third owner. The previous owner either never had the manual either, or, she didn't want to dig it up. I'll never know. The MSF class emphasized that riders should consult MOM (motorcycle owner's manual) to know their bikes inside and out, whether they maintain the bike themselves, or take it to a mechanic.

I'll admit to being in that group of people who believe that for most devices, if you have to read the User's Manual, the device was badly designed. In the case of my bike, I am waiting for the owner's manual as if it were the fifth in the Harry Potter series.

In the parking lot at the office, I'm just pulling into a space at the same time some guy in a white pickup is pulling into his space. I feel his eyes. He fiddles around his truck while I go through the process of turning off the bike, dismounting, getting my stuff out of the saddle bag, and getting to the point where I can remove my helmet. I have watched other people do this, and when they do it all the actions are smoothly executed. I'm so far from Smooth, you could fit the Grand Canyon between me and Smooth.

By the time I peel the helmet off my head, the guy has given up trying to be subtle about waiting to see what's under the helmet. He is just standing there, waiting as I walk towards the office building. So I pull off the helmet, and drag my fingers through my hair (I chose a really bad time to grow my hair out).

He's not unhappy with what he sees, and makes some small talk. I smile, he smiles back. And we go our separate ways. Amazing what armored leather can do for a 45 year-old woman.

The bike has five gears. What would I do without the web?

The weather report says rain. There's only one Aikido class because we're still on vacation schedule. Peter and I get back to Mountain View around 3pm, leaving me enough time to go practice left turns. First, a few practice runs in the HP parking lot, then, out on the street. I am really nervous. It isn't that I have to cross traffic when turning left, my brain is wired differently for right and left maneuvers. Turning left feels physically more complex.

I'm in the left turn lane, waiting for the signal to change. The traffic lights cycle through twice. Just my luck, my bike doesn't weigh enough to trigger the left turn signal. A car pulls up behind me. The good part is that the car weighs enough; the bad part is I now have someone behind me, and once again, I'm not sure if I've down-shifted all the way, and my damn visor is fogging.

I flip open the visor, just a bit, and the fog clears. How do real riders deal with this? If the bike is in gear for a smooth start off the line, then the right hand has to be holding in the clutch. The left hand is on the brake. I suppose the right foot can be on the brake. I prefer having both feet on the ground at a stop. I guess if one doesn't have to think about every aspect of executing a standing start, one has the brief moment needed to close the visor.

The leather pants make a huge difference in my confidence. Denny, my boss, points out that the first time I'm waiting at a red light with another rider, there's bound to be some laughter. I see riders out there wearing t-shirts, torn jeans, canvas shoes, and those salad bowls with chin strap - these are the guys on the big cruisers. I'm on nearly the smallest street bike Suzuki makes. Bart called it a "toy". I'm wearing a full-face helmet, an armored jacket, armored pants, leather gloves with kevlar, and motorcycle boots.

By the time the Suzuki dealer calls to let me know the Owner's Manual has come in, I'll be ready to ride to their location. On the surface streets. Taking the expressway would be faster, but I'm not ready. Peter suggests that I find myself a buddy to ride with. I think this is a capital idea; I need a coach.

Initially Peter was not enthusiastic about my desire to learn to ride. I wasn't real enthusiastic about his decision to start sky diving either. But I went to all of his jumps. He stopped jumping when he realized he was hurting his ankle with each landing. The sore ankle kept him off the Aikido mat. He says he will go back to sky diving some day. That's okay with me. When he realized that riding was something I've wanted to do for a long time, he became more supportive. In fact, I wouldn't be riding now without his generous assistance.

I'm starting off the new year with hope that the commerce gods will smile again soon on high-tech consulting. I haven't worked a real project in a year. I'm no longer a salaried employee (by choice), I'm being paid by the hour. Simply, I'm not working, and I don't expect to be until Q2 of this year. Peter paid for the MSF class as a Christmas present, and, he gave me half the cost of the bike as a birthday present. He was very happy when I told him I was too scared to go faster than 30 mph. He is happy that I am afraid to get on the freeway. He will be happy if I get scared and decide to sell the bike. He will be less happy if I continue to ride, but he's being supportive because it is what I want to do. I can't ask for more than that.

The bike talks to me. Not riding it one day was okay. But today, the bike wants to roll.

We did a loop that puts me in traffic, requires left turns at a four-way intersection (two of them) and gives me a chance to ride in 5th gear at 50 mph to get the feel of the wind hitting my body. I do have a wind shield, so I am not feeling the full force, but I got the idea. How do people stay on their bikes when the wind is gusting on the Dumbarton bridge?

Still having trouble finding first at a stop, but I'm getting good at roaring out in second. The unnecessary engine revving does embarrass me, though. I also need to find out why my brakes squeal.

The 4th annual Sojourner Truth Girls' Chess Tournament is this coming weekend. I'm a volunteer. If it is in the same location as last year, Menlo Park, this will be an opportunity to ride a pretty safe route that will be the furthest from home I've been. I'm ready. The challenge will be to not work myself to death at the tournament; I'll need all my faculties to ride home. Hmm, what I don't remember is what time the tournament ends, I don't want to ride home at night.

I can get the bike parked in four maneuvers now.

After reading this online journal, Bart send a curt email with a reminder about the neutral light between first and second gear, and an admonishment to "just punch down". "Well hell, what does he think I've been doing?" I fume. Come to think of it, I had the same problem on the Honda "Rainbow" bike, so the problem is wetware, not hardware. Okay, let's see what I can do with this.

During today's ride I discover that when I'm stopped and can't punch down to first from neutral, a little throttle enables the down shift. Result: all starts except one on today's ride were from first. Inexperience aside, I think the clutch needs adjustment. The Suzuki dealership says the owners manual isn't in yet.

Passed Bart's "slow turning maneuver and shifting in a turn" exam. Still need to work on 90 degree turns and precision of "riding the line". I think he had more planned, but we were asked to leave by the HP parking lot security. Well, we were there during business hours. Brake squeal is due to worn front brake pads, I'll get them replaced when I go to the dealer.

Sprained all four fingers of my left hand in Aikido practice tonight. Hunt and peck typing with the right hand, the left is tied to a rubber ball for a splint. I can't ride (or do much that requires use of my left hand) for the next 48 hours. I now have one working thumb, left hand, and four working fingers, right hand. I wonder if I can use clutching (left hand) as a rehab exercise.

Last night my left hand was so swollen, you couldn't see the knuckles; I couldn't move my fingers very much. During yesterday's practice, I didn't maintain the connection to my partner during the throw. Naomi had three wicked spirals going in her morotedori ikkyo ura, and the moment I lost my half of the connection, I collapsed. All four fingers of my left hand folded backwards and touched the back of my wrist. I can remember thinking as my full weight came down on my contorted hand, "I'm lucky, nothing is breaking, this will only be a bad sprain."

Now, I can move them enough to type, but I can't open my hand, or close it. Of course, the Suzuki dealer called today to let me know that the owners manual is ready for me to pick up. Since I have no grip strength, I don't even want to drive my car (manual transmission). I hope I can ride by Monday.

The bike came with black leather saddlebags. They look good on the bike, but they aren't useful: they can't be secured, accessing the contents of the saddlebag through the double buckles is inefficient, and the dimensions of the bag won't even support a standard notebook. That's three strikes. The bags are coming off; I'll use a backpack until I find something better. Blithe's other half, Randy, better known as pRC, uses a messenger bag. I'll look at other saddlebags at the dealer.

Drove the car to the Suzuki dealer to pick up the manual, but they had ordered the manual for the dirt bike, not the street bike. Audrey does not recommend the messenger bag. Her reasoning is that if you go down, you don't want what's in the bag grinding into your back. She suggested that I take several measurements, and then pour through the catalogs - there are several cordura models that are easy to attach and remove. Went home and removed the leather saddlebags. Drat, forgot to pick up the visor anti-fog stuff.

I still can't completely open or close my left hand, but I can pull the clutch lever without significant discomfort, so I rode the bike to the chess tournament in the morning. Although the ride was short, and I never went faster than 45 mph, my fingers felt frozen by the time I arrived. Having not ridden for a couple days, each stop and turn felt like a completely new experience, but I can feel small changes in the way my body responds, as if my body is starting to understand the task. It seems silly, but I was quite pleased with myself when I arrived at the Menlo Park Rec Center.

I chose to ride home during lunch because I had misread the schedule; it was definitely going to be dark after the tournament was over and everything cleaned up. Riding on Middlefield I noticed this car drifting into my lane. He hadn't seen me. I slowed down, and when he was in my lane, I moved to where he could see me in his left mirror. Now I understand why bikes seem to "appear out of nowhere" when I'm driving a car.

The front brake was squealing due to worn brake pads, which were replaced today. I told Carlos I had just bought the bike, there's about 3,000 miles on it (it's a 1999) and did he think one of the mechanics should give it a once over? He looked at the bike and said I could just bring it in for the 4k regular service. Silent brakes. Much better. I got a few blocks away and noticed the speedometer wasn't working. Went back. Had to make a U-turn. Interesting, I'm so inexperienced, it seems like my Honda 4-door Civic has a better turning radius than this bike. At the dealership, Carlos showed me the dangling cable. Okay, I could have looked.

I spent about half an hour going over the catalogs of saddle bags with the accessories sales woman, Audrey. We measured the space available, which is rather limited due to the length of the tail pipe, and due to the fact that the bike is just plain small. It will be interesting to see which comes in first, the owners manual or the new saddle bag. I asked about reflectors because the saddlebags will cover the ones that are already there. Audrey asked if I could sew. Yes. Apparently I can go crazy with reflective material from a yardage store for much less money than buying reflectors from the dealership.

The ride to the dealer was in the late afternoon, before rush hour. I deliberately rode on the Expressway, just to check in on how I felt about the cars. I can handle three lanes of traffic if vibes are pre-rush hour. Still forgot the anti-fog stuff for my visor.

Got a nice e-mail from Karolyn, a fellow Aikidoka. She has been riding 15 years and taught motorcycle basics in Canada for a couple of years. She offered to ride with me - this kind of support from other riders makes me feel so good.

I've been sick and haven't been out of the house (haven't ridden). The story for this entry is from my friend and senpai, Bobby, who now lives in Minnesota.

Yes, Bobby, I'll be careful... and I won't be lane-sharing for a long time.

My friends are telling me their "beginning rider" stories as word of this journal is spreading. I'm getting better, but not well enough to ride. Here is Alan's story; Alan and I were graduate students in Linguistics at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, back in ancient history.

Tomorrow I will do my first ride in the rain - to the Santa Clara County courthouse, in Palo Alto. I've never served on a jury. While I would prefer to finish the backyard irrigation project, now is probably the best time for me to do my civic duty.

The following story is from my musician friend Jim, who I have known since high school.

It didn't rain the day I rode to the county court house, and I did not get selected for jury duty. The selection process is interesting. I'm glad I didn't get selected; as the day progressed, more details about the case were revealed, and to be honest, I found myself thinking "this guy's an idiot". So much for being able to maintain impartiality.

I sat in the court room will my leather pants and boots tucked into Peter's backpack. I carried the helmet. I have seen other riders lock their helmets to their bike, but I can't find an obvious helmet hook on mine. I also can't figure out where you keep the bike registration paper. More questions for Bart. The ride home was uneventful except that I can't help thinking that the same intersections that I pass through in my car without any thought look completely different when I'm on the bike. My whole state of awareness is different on the bike - I'm aware of everything with respect to its potential to move. I experience discomfort in intersections.

Turns out my bike does not have a helmet hook. I'll see if this is an add-on I can purchase. Also, Bart showed me the compartment under the seat - it has a wallet for the registration, the insurance card, a tool bag, and a small bottle of WD-40.

I have had the leather saddle bags on eBay for several days. No bids. I guess it is time to lower the asking price. I was hoping to offset the cost of the new saddlebags with some proceeds from the old ones. Oh, well. The new saddlebags provide enough room for my laptop, and a standard notebook fits in fine. Both cats could fit in one saddle bag, but I doubt they would enjoy the ride.

I now have the owner's manual (finally!), and, the Fog City liner on my visor works great. Little by little.

I rode to the bank first, then to the Suzuki dealership. I find that I'm still thinking about ways to avoid left turns, but I went on the same route I would have taken by car, anyway. I took El Camino to the dealer, just to ride in traffic. My thumb hovers on the horn button - I know I'm invisible. Some guy started changing lanes into my path without even looking. Rode back on Central Expressway, and accelerated up to 60 mph for a brief while. Interesting sensation. My friend Lee warned me about getting addicted to speed. I protested that I wasn't in it for the speed. She said that I was still too young to understand; she called me a "moto-virgin". Considering that Bart will be taking a class at the Searspoint Raceway in March, clearly there is a speed-loving component of riding that I don't appreciate yet. My big thrill today was leaning heavy through a turn, first time I've done that.

Having the owner's manual makes all the difference in the world. I've found the helmet hooks - under the seat. I'm surprised we didn't recognize them when Bart first showed me the seat compartment. It's fun locating all the parts on the bike. I've been working on other projects which take up all my daylight time, so I haven't ridden in a few days. Today would have been a good day, but I'm using the excuse of intermittent rain. I picked up the reflective vest from the Honda Ducati dealer today - I ordered it when I bought the leather pants. As I was leaving the parking lot, I noticed a 2002 Magna, I stared at it for a long time. The Honda Motorcycle website says it is a cross between a sport bike and a cruiser. It has a 748cc liquid-cooled 90-degree V-4 engine, and weighs 505 pounds. Too big. Too bad. The bike next to it was a purple Shadow VTX Deluxe, 583cc liquid-cooled 52-degree V-twin, 458 pounds. Still seems too big. I can't believe I'm drooling over a cruiser.

Go to February entries.