Several entries back I listed one of the reasons I love my knife-fighting wife, and I used the title of a Little Feat song as the entry title. Here, now, the lyrics to that song, every word of which rings true:

That’s Her, She’s Mine
by Paul Barrere, Bill Payne, Sam Clayton

Hey, that’s her, and she’s mine
Look don’t touch ’cause lookin’ I don’t mind
See that girl lookin’ so fine?
Ya that’s her, and she’s mine

Well, that was a long ride home. It’s a good thing I left as early as I did — I picked up another nail on my way home and got another flat tire.

I was flying down the freeway at 80 when suddenly the bike just didn’t feel right. Kinda wiggly-like. I gave the handlebars a quick back-and-forth wobble … and the rear end responded with a big-ass wobble! I barely managed to hold onto her, and at 80 mph it would have been ugly if I hadn’t. I won’t speculate how many times I would have bounced if I’d gone down but at 80 the number would have been high, and you can double it if I had high-sided. But like I said, I managed to hold onto it and didn’t go down. The pucker factor was high, though, and my shorts will need laundering.

After I parked it on the shoulder, I discovered that I’d left my cell phone at home. Great. So I leaned against the divider and waited for some kind of help to arrive. A CHP motorcycle officer rolled up within 10 minutes, called a tow truck for me, recommended a nearby shop where I could get the tire fixed, and then hung around talking motorcycles with me until the truck showed up. He earned rare cop Bonus Points in my book by studiously ignoring the fact that my tags are expired.

$85 later the tow truck dropped me at the motorcycle shop, where $90 later I had a new inner tube installed and was back on the road. Total time elapsed: 3.5 hours.

That’s my third nail this year. I’m getting pretty tired sick of this.

Sigh… I’m wrapping things up here at the office (aka “Watching the clock until it gets late enough to leave early without getting in trouble for leaving too early.”) in preparation for heading out of town tomorrow. This month’s destination? Manchester, NH, home of … well, something New England-y, I’m sure. I’m not looking forward to it; I have a baaaaad feeling about this conversion. Shit is going to go spectacularly wrong while I’m there, I can just feel it.

God, I love my job.