This morning as I was parking the bike, the rear wheel caught on a corner of the curb and the bike tipped over. There is something pitiful about a bike lying on its side. Even a bug can struggle to right itself.

A fellow who was passing by, walking his bicycle, stopped to help me stand up the bike. He told me he was a warrior (this was in Berkeley), and his brother used to ride. He also told me that he sure did like to see women on motorcycles. I replied that this woman was very glad to see him. We shook hands. He rode away on his bicycle and I walked quickly to the dojo so I wouln't be late for class.

Things always happen in threes. Last week I got sandwiched between a car and truck while lane-sharing. This morning, the bike and I fall over while parking, So, what will the third event be?

* * *

Karolyn suggested that my March encounter with the car that cut in front of me counts as incident number one of the set of three. I demurred as there was no impact. On reconsidering the sequence, I've decided to accept this reframing of the sequence of events because now I can stop wondering when I'm going to fall off my bike again.

My first solo ride of over two hundred miles in each direction was, well, completely uneventful, and thank heaven for that. The ride was a straight run down highway 101 to Pismo Beach. The weather was clear going south. The night before I was to return, the wind and rain woke me up several times. I left the conference a couple hours early to avoid the possibility of riding home in a gusty thunderstorm at night. Normally I fault my lack of any sense of direction when I can't find my way from a gas station back to the freeway, but in Paso Robles, I beat my own record for driving around in circles. I finally asked for directions at a Jiffy Lube. A skeptical young lady (wearing a ton of makeup) told me about the detour (aha!) and asked if my bike and I could handle a short bit of twisty road. Ummm, yes, I think so. A short bit of twisty road later, plus recovering from a wrong turn at a T-intersection I was back on 101. I didn't even try to make up the time. My mantra for the trip home was "no speeding tickets".

Once again the Sprint's horsepower and fairing allowed me to ride through windy conditions that would have scared the bejeezus out of me on the CS.

The new skill that I'm acquiring is the ability to stay in the same tucked position for over a hundred miles or a tank load without needing to stop due to leg cramps. Potassium, hydration, body core temperature are just three of the factors at play. A new problem is right hand getting frozen in position and then needing flex the fingers to use the brake. Cold fingers do not respond well. Sure, there's the foot brake, but have you ever tried to apply smooth pressure with a cinder block?

The bike is a champ, but I hate the tires. I'm going to look into Dunlops for the cross-country trip to Connecticut that we're planning. Here's where Peter and I differ - I want to plan everything, in particular, which hotel in which town we're going to spend each night in. He wants to go with the flow. We'll figure it out.