My boots should be fixed today. The boots have been the only thing stopping the final conclusion of whether Little wing is fixed or not.

It's all about the shoes.

I am standing by the phone, eagerly awaiting the phone call that will determine my plan for the rest of the day. If I get the call early I can get the boots and go for a long ride around the area. I am thinking of a nice ride to a neat, used, bookstore in Fallbrook to pick up more reading material (Maya Angelou and I have finished our conversation). There is also the art club, place, thing, I have been eyeing up. I’m not exactly sure what it is but I imagine it is a promising place to go meet fellow artists and explore. I might get to talk art which would be great especially in this sunshiny weather (but let’s be honest, what wouldn’t be great in this sunshiny weather?).

If it is a late phone call then a quick ride around the neighborhood is probably in order for Little Wing and I. It just so happens the girls are coming over for dinner tonight, here at Andrea’s. Peggy, the woman who had the amazing adobe house that I was  invited along to visit for the neighborhood Christmas party (which I wrote about here ), wanted to get to know me more the last time I was around. I left while she was still gone visiting relatives for the holidays. Anyway, she wants to talk more this evening so Andrea and the lovely gals from around the neighborhood want to make an evening of it.

Just an aside, when I say girls, I actually mean very young-at-heart older ladies. Peggy is nearing her 80’s now and just had a minor stroke. These women are wise with a lot to offer a young whippersnapper like myself, but I can barely tell because when we sit around a table I feel like I’m taliking to my peers. Their spirits are not a day over sixteen.

Since there is a dinner this evening it means I have a curfew, 5 p.m. this means if I get the boots back too late in the afternoon I cannot actually go for a ride til tomorrow.

The fourth possibility is that, regardless of when I get the boots back, I will hop on Little Wing, ride him to the end of the block, and find that I, in fact, have more work to do. This option is the least appealing, but the most harrowing, and in fact could make for great literature. What could be more exciting than another bike fix?

I ask that, and honestly, I am not sincerely convinced that would make for the best story. There are better stories. Like this one:

Imagine picking up the boots at the cobbler, coming back to Andrea’s, and then hopping on Little Wing. I would rush off to the hardware store to purchase the last fixit attachments  for my commitments, so I can get them back on the bike. I ride like the wind through the curving roads of Andrea’s neighborhood. Little Wing rides just fine, nothing seems to be wrong. When I arrive at the store and buy the final attachments, which they magically have this time, I turn out to be two hundred millionth customer, and as such recieve a huge honking gift card to sell to some local in exchange for cash for my trip.

That’s just one alternative. How ’bout another:

I get the motorcycle boots back, hop on Little Wing and ignore the dumb hardware store, which doesn’t have what I need (a fact I already tested). Instead I ride to the book store and then the art club. I walk into the art club, just peaking my nose around, and a well know San Diego artist pokes their nose around a corner and asks what I need. I tell them I need a tour, and they say most certainly. They ask what my interest is and we walk around the place and I tell them that I am an artist. Oh really? What do I do? Well everything I tell them but lately a lot of murals. Oh really? They would ask again. They would inform me that’s why they are down here. Someone in the small town wants to commission them but the truth is they are too busy to do it, and it’s too much of a commute, maybe I could do it they suggest. My face falls in shock but I recover quickly, maintain my cool, of course! I say and then the artist hands me a big honking check to get spent on the trip and he tells me that’s just the first installment.

Makes for a great story doesn’t it? But I have another one.

I ride Little Wing through the curvy roads with no problems. I stop by the bookstore, I find a great book that I know I won’t want to put down. I stop by the art club, get an amazing tour and talk art. My stress levels are down because Little Wing doesn’t need any work. I walk to a coffeeshop after seeing all of the fascinating the art at the club thing. I order a hot tea, preferably herbal. I sit down, open up my new book, and read until 4:30 rolls around. Then I hop on a perfectly wonderful Little Wing and ride back to Andrea’s to have enlightening discussions with women I  admire.

Now that is great literature. Screw this b.s. about Little Wing needing more work, or not having enough time to take him for a test ride. Imagination is a great way to weed out the dumb alternatives in a situation.

However, enough of this hyperbole. I think it is time I pick up the phone and call the cobbler. It might be time to take reality into my own hands. I need to take Little Wing for the first test ride. No worries, I will get back to all of you tomorrow with some great literature.