And safely at work. But not without major panic and anxiety. Other than riding the two blocks remaining to my office, I haven't been back on my motor scooter since my crash. And not because I was too injured but because I was too afraid.
I've been riding my scooter to work for almost four years, and my scooter and I nearly have what I used to call "body-bike oneness" when I was a bicycle commuter. I go zipping up and down the Berkeley hills, leaning into corners, cashmere scarf flying in the wind, with the sound of "Born To Be Wild" in my head. I'm not a (nearly) middle-aged mom on her way to the office . . . no, I'm something entirely different, although I'm not sure just what. Especially since in the summer I've often got Sophie on the back.
But the fact that I had an accident I really wouldn't know how to avoid should the same circumstances occur again (oil on a wet road) has really freaked me. Husband has been asking every morning "Riding your scooter today?" (When I do, he thoughtfully wheels it out of the garage and up the driveway for me.) And I've answered "Nope. Not ready. Raining." But today it wasn't raining, and he suggested that it was time to get back on the horse. And so I did. But not before we had this ridiculous conversation.
Husband: Ok, so let's talk for a minute about motor scooter safety. You need to look ahead of you and think when you ride.
Me: Think? No, I'd rather ride around with my head up my ass.
Husband: I really can't talk to you about anything, can I?
Me: Not about this.
Husband: Ok, call me when you get to work to let me know you're ok.
I was, and so I did. But in the meantime I swallowed panic at every stop and turn. And I was nearly blind with anxiety when I approached the spot where I had the accident. But I did not crash and made it safely at work. So I think I've got the head problem licked. Now if I can only heel the knee.