Idiocy 101

Activities this past weekend included some shopping, some socializing, some solitary time, some bathhouse time, and some utter idiocy on the part of Yours Truly. I convinced the guy, named Guy, who's selling me his motorcycle to give me a couple of test-runs on the thing under his guidance prior to his departure. I figured this was a good idea,

A) because I've never driven a REAL motorcycle before,
B) because I've never (successfully) driven a "standard" vehicle (and no, driving to NYC in 5th gear does NOT count Daniel), and
C) becuase I thought it would be fun.

But oh no, oh no, things could not have turned out worse! First, I found out that my soon-to-be motorcycle is VERY old and lacking some basic necessities, such as mirrors (broken off, fixable) and an automatic ignition (there is a kick-start). But that's fine. I can take it to the garage and fix it up for not too much dough (considering I'm only paying $250 for the thing to begin with). After numerous attempts to start the dusty klunker we finally got her going, filled her with gas, and then took her to an abandoned back road on the outskirts of Mokpo to test her out. It was damned cold and the wind was picking up, but everything was going pretty smoothly until I was caught on one foot trying to kick-start the bike again (after having stalled it for the millionth time). It was at this point that a HUGE gust of wind came tearing across the empty industrial area. It caught me totally off-guard which meant I was falling over and the big old heavy bike was coming with me. Scrambling to keep myself from being hurt, I pulled my leg and arm out from under the descending vehicle, preferring that it take the full brunt of the impact rather than my appendages. Unfortunately the point of impact was the clutch handle-bar which, in the bitter cold, snapped neatly off the aging bike. Without a clutch there was no way to shift the bike out of neutral, which meant there was no way of riding it to a garage to get it fixed and no way of getting ourselves home. With my tail between my legs we walked for 55 minutes back to Guy's apartment, after having abandoned the bike behind an abandoned shop of some sort. Guy was really good about the whole thing but I felt like an utter and COMPLETE ass. He said he'd take care of getting it fixed and back inside of city limits, but I think I owe him a beer (if not 10) for putting up with my stupidity. As it turns out, I'm not a strong biker babe. I'm more like a squealing baby piglet scrambling to suckle at my indifferent momma hog's teat: not only am I unable to get to the goods but mom just gave me a huge kick in the ass. Frikin' HELL!!! Thanks Momma... Arg!