So it's 6:50 AM, on a Sunday morning. I am awake, and have been for, oh, about two hours. There's a reason my son has a shirt that says 'I don't sleep, NOBODY sleeps'.
I'm running into difficulties lately in writing. Part of it is to do with the fact that my free time is limited--basically an hour and a half on the bus to work, and the same back. I can do little sketches on the bus, but for some reason I just can't write. Maybe it's the inevitable old man hacking his germs on the back of my neck, but my concentration is just barely enough for cartooning. Stringing several coherent sentences together seems to be beyond me. And with a six day workweek, that doesn't leave much time. What time there is I have to split between wife, child, errands, and things like what I'm doing now.
Which is why I'm taking motorcycle lessons.
When I take public transport, I'm spending three hours a day, six days a week cheek-to-jowl with dozens of hacking, sneezing, smelly strangers. If I take a taxi, the time is cut by two-thirds: but the cost QUINTUPLES. I end up working for the taxi company.
Ergo, I need my own transport, one that's cheap. It's not a midlife crisis or a death wish. It's an economic and mental health necessity.
Plus, all my life I have been 'forbidden' to ride a motorcycle. Dire threats have been vocalized should I ever consider it. The main threatener being my mom. Well, Mom's on the other side ofthe world now, and I AM 35. If I wanna ride a motorcycle, great jumping Jehosephat, I'll do