The BF thought it would be fun if we had motorcycles. I thought so too, actually. So last week we took possession of two 2012 Suzuki DR650SEL dual sports. We were very excited, even though the first thing the BF said was, “Don’t tell my mom.”
I do not have much motorcycle riding experience, but I have some...a little...very little. We passed our California motorcycle permit tests (I got 100% on the first try; the BF passed the second time.) and we were anxious for Saturday morning so we could get some practice under our belts.
Really, we are very mature and practical adults. Despite singing “Born to Be Wild” all week, we had what we felt was a pretty solid plan: We would spend much of Saturday morning riding around the lot of the BF’s place of employment. He’s a mechanic; there’s lots of space where he works. Not enough space to get out of second gear, but enough to get the hang of shifting, braking, turning, starting, and stopping. We were prepared to do this for several hours if need be, before taking the bikes down the nearly-deserted side street next to the shop.
All was going quite well. So after I’d advanced the odometer by over a mile (that’s a lot of trips around the shop), we carefully walked the bikes — all legal-like, and avoiding the busier road — down the sidewalk to the corner.
All I had to do was make a gentle, sweeping turn to the left as I pulled out of the driveway. From there, I would straighten it out and finally get past first gear. Instead ... I broke my wrist.
The bike didn’t turn when I told it to turn, and it didn’t stop when I told it to stop. So I ended up executing the lamest bike crash ever. I hit the opposite curb with the front wheel, stalled the bike, and fell off. Scraped my knee against the sidewalk and landed in the grass on the other side ... on top of my left hand.
I believe I’m on record as being quite left-handed, am I not?
At first I was mostly crying in frustration, disappointment, and abject humiliation. Seriously?! I just wrecked my first motorcycle in record time going less than five miles an hour! But my wrist hurt — a lot. And once we got my helmet and gloves off and I could see the back of my hand and the weird, diagonal pattern it was beginning to swell in, I was pretty sure I would not be dusting myself off and getting back on that horse anytime soon.
Yes indeed. My wrist is BUSTED. And, being the perfectionist that I am, I made sure my first official broken bone is busted good.
My wrist does not hurt nearly as badly as having to notify all my clients. I had a really busy week scheduled and was looking forward to meeting five new clients. Canceling an entire week of work is not just heartbreaking because I love what I do and was looking forward to doing those nails, but each phone call echoes a sickening, warped version of a cash register “cha-chinging” in an eerie sound in my head.
All that money I’m not going to make to pay all those bills that are going to come anyway. On top of all the new bills that I’m racking up with each urgent care, X-ray, orthopedist, surgery appointment.
The good news is that yes, I do have health insurance. The bad news is that it’s an HSA with a $3,500 deductible and no, of course I don’t have that in a savings account. But in other good news, I also have a small, short-term disability insurance policy. In other bad news, it won’t come close to covering the new medical bills as well as all the regular monthly expenses, and I won’t actually see a check from the insurance company for 30 days.
So my blogs for the few weeks will give you an inside perspective on living through one of a nail tech’s worst nightmares.
Let me start my advice by saying: Next time one of those guys from Combined Insurance comes to your salon trying to talk you into buying an accident policy, buy it.
What? You didn’t honestly expect me to tell you not to get a motorcycle, did you?
| posted on Wednesday, October 31, 2012 9:59 AM