Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey

So today was the big day—I drove the motorbike across town for the first time and it now resides at my house. I am mobile once again! While the trip was without catastrophe, however, it was not without excitement of varying types.
There are actually two motorcycles in storage on the other side of town that have been saved for me and my roommate. They had intended to give the red one to my roommate and the black one to me because my roommate may be transporting people in connection with his work and the red one has a little bit more horsepower. So this evening I waited until after dark when the streets had quieted down a little bit and went to get the black bike.
As I was leaving the house where it had been stored I felt like I seemed to be fishtailing a little bit, but I assumed it was just a bit of nerves and kept going.
After traveling down the road a bit I came to an intersection that made me a bit confused. I had known the route home, but I realized I couldn’t follow it because part of it was one-way in the opposite direction! No problem: I know I have to go east, so I’ll just go east on this parallel street until I find a crossover right? Well that would have worked well enough if the streets here actually ran parallel—but they don’t. Trust me, I know from experience. So I’m now trying to get across town on a motorbike I barely know how to drive, on a road I’ve never been down, and in a city I’ve only known for three weeks!
Eventually I got to an intersection I recognized and thought I was home free…that is until I realized that the fishtailing hadn’t been in my imagination. My recently serviced bike had a flat tire—not just a “low on air” tire—a FLAT tire.
It was too late at night to get it fixed though (like I would’ve known where to take it anyway!), so I decided I’d have to go back and get the other bike instead. I made it there fine and after startling my coworkers who were wondering who in the world was in their yard at this time of night, I got the bike and registration papers switched out and started again.
This time I knew the way and was looking forward to a smooth trip. As it turns out, it really was pretty smooth as long as you call driving on the left side of the street and dodging people, cars, animals, pot holes, and other motorbikes smooth. Fortunately I’ve quickly learned to redefine a lot of words here. Smooth no longer means “easy.” It just means you survived and still have a smile on your face. It actually reminds me of life insurance—anything that doesn’t involve death or dismemberment is considered “smooth,” and everything else you just have to dismiss with a laugh as “one of those things.”