Quite the Ruckus

Have I mentioned, at all yet, how my husband recently bought a motorcycle?

Wait. No. Shame shame, Tia- better clarify that...

*Ahem*

Have I mentioned, at all yet, how my husband recently bought a motor-scooter?

Because oh boy. Here we go.



Not so long ago, Christopher had mentioned to me that a friend of his was selling his bike. Of course, I brushed it off like he had never brought it up at all, in one ear and out then right out the other. The last thing my has-no-balance Sasquatch needed, was a motorcycle.

Weeeeelllll- the more I thought about it, the more I decided it might be ok. I didn't tell him any of this though, God no, I just let it all stew around in my head, until I had made my decision. And then one day, when he least expected it, I pulled him into the kitchen when he came home from his lunch break, and I simply said "you can get the bike".

That of course caught him completely off guard, and I think at that point he was ignoring me, not having understood what I was telling him. He never in a million years probably expected to hear those words come out of my mouth, and maybe didn't even hear them at all.

I cut him off mid sentence- something about hydraulic fluid this, or plane engine that- and I repeated myself.

"No. Honey. I'm telling you that you can get the motorcycle. I want you to get it. I think you deserve it".

Silence.

A blank stare.

Total confusion.



What was I thinking, you wonder? Well, a lot, actually. I was thinking about how Christopher is about to be promoted (on June 30th!), and what all went into that. I was thinking about how he graduated at the very top of his class when he attended Airman Leadership School, I was thinking about how much hes matured over the last couple of years, and mostly, I was thinking about how badly I wanted my van back. I know, maybe a little selfish, but- rightfully so.

And really, how badly can he hurt himself on something that doesn't go above 43 miles per hour?


So there we stood in the kitchen. Both leaning against the counter, my husband starting to get so excited that he maybe almost left the house without even eating his lunch, making big plans to add a second mode of transportation into our lives.

Fast forward about 3 months, a meeting with some commander guy (the very day after Chris sliced his head open on an airplane and had to go to the ER for staples), a motorcycle safety class (take a wild guess as to who was the only one in the class to crash a bike? Come on, guess!), a motorcycle license, the actual purchasing process later, and...



Look whos livin' on the edge.

Now I can't say that there weren't any bumps in the road, because there was a lot of back and forth on his part ("I want the bike, I don't want the bike. We could spend the money on this instead, or maybe that- or I could just get a bicycle, and ride it everyday in the 100 degree weather, with all my gear on"), and I may or may not have locked him out of the house at one point, with the very demanding instructions of "go get your bike, or divorce me". You might think I'm exaggerating when I say that, but- ask my neighbors all about the show we put on for them in the driveway. It was a good one.

Needless to say, I'm glad all is said and done. The bike is ours.
And I have my van back.



Aaaannd it doesn't exactly hurt, that he looks totally cute on the dang thing, right?