Do I have two unfinished draft posts in my folder? Yep, sure do. I can’t say they’re anything earth shattering, just an attempt to keep my writing on track last week. I guess we’ll call it progress that I even started the drafts.

No, I don’t really think it’s great progress but we’ll call it that and keep it moving.

It was a quiet-ish weekend with a bit of puttering around the house. I did run an errand to the local motorcycle shop for T. (I know, I know, we’ve said all the things. We’re at the accept he’s living his life and pray for the best stage.)

If you saw me in real life you’d bust out laughing at the picture of me rolling up to a motorcycle shop. I sport a head full of gray hair. I drive a Volvo for Pete’s sake. But he was in a jam so I slid into that car and let Apple Maps lead the way.

There was a long line of motorcycles parked in front of the shop and as I drove through looking for a parking spot the mantra running through my head was just don’t hit the bikes just don’t hit the bikes along with a vision of very expensive dominoes crashing to the asphalt.

Spoiler alert: I did indeed manage to park my car without sideswiping a bike.

Then came the public part. I was a vision in my sweatpants, hoodie, and — wait for it — freaking lavender sneakers. I KNOW, MAN but my gray ones were still drying so it was what it was. I wandered into the shop and to his credit the man barely blinked as he asked if he could help me. That’s when I whipped out my phone and read word for word the text my son sent: “I’m picking up forks for a 2004 Yamaha R1.”

Do I have any idea what that means? No, of course not, but they were the magic words as the man did indeed pull an order from somewhere. He even loaded them into back of said Volvo because, and I quote, “they’re pretty heavy.” I thanked him kindly though it felt like a gray-hair-slam…until I tried to shift them in the space and realized they actually ARE super heavy so…yeah. We don’t call these t-rex arms for nothing.

And there’s the most exciting part of my weekend. Or the most outing-ish part of it anyway. Now I’m publishing this thing before it languishes in drafts with the other two. Thank you for reading my extraordinarily interesting account of Middle Aged Woman Visits a Motorcycle Shop.