People,

I am back from a loooong weekend of motorcycle class. "Motorcycle class?" you ask? "Are you a badass now Joe?" you also ask? The answer to this is....well, no. But now I feel much more prepared to possibly delay my inevitable death from a motorcycle crash.

The class itself was pretty intense, being split into a classroom section and a riding section. The classroom portion was not especially difficult but did involve more acronyms than the time the SCUBA, LASER and NORML national conventions were all simultaneously scheduled at the Hynes Convention Center. Choice moment: our instructor Scott says "the clutch is a very powerful tool, like a gun. And like a gun, you should use it quickly and then immediately put it away." Hmmmm. Everything OK at home, Scott?

The riding section, on the other hand, was hard. We crammed a whole course of riding into two 6 hour sections. Six hours is a long time, people. This is pretty much how it went both days: Hour 1 - "wow, I'm on a motorcycle! This rocks! There will never be a time in my life when I will not want to be on a motorcycle, so cancel my rent and quit my job for me because I'm staying here forever!", Hour 3 - "Motorcycles definitely still rock, but it's really hot out here, no? And is it me, or am I gettiong an ass-rash from this seat?", Hour 6 - "Sweet merciful Jesus, I feel like my balls are in a quickly vibrating smelly trash compactor, my ass is now a lake of sweat, fed by the river that is my back, my thighs hurt and I would kill a man and drink his blood just to be able to go home."

Anyway, much to my mother's dismay I passed the course and am now a licensed Massachusetts motorcyclist. Dag.