Who Am I?

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A nobody; a nitwit; a pilot; a motorcyclist; a raconteur; a lover...of life - who loves to laugh, who tries to not take myself (or anything) too seriously...just a normal guy who knows his place in the universe by being in touch with my spiritual side. What more is there?

09 January 2019

Obeying The SIgns

Well it was sunny and it got up to 73 degrees yesterday here in Pensacola.  A beautiful January day! In fact, a great day to take the motorcycle out for a ride. Or so I thought.  The plan was to mosey out to the beach for lunch.  It's been a cloudy/rainy winter here in NW Florida, and good riding days have been as scarce as an Obama lover at a Trump rally...or a vegan at a Ted Nugent concert...or a good driver in New Jersey.  We're talking scarce.

I keep my bike's registration and insurance cards in a little plastic pouch. I do not keep the documents in my wallet, because anything that's made of paper fades to nothingness in no time flat. Not only that, but the motor vehicle registration form here Florida is inexplicably bigger than my motorcycle license plate - hardly walled-size.  Plus I don't ride all of the time so there's no need to tote them around.

Without fail, I keep that pouch in one place and one place only: On my computer desk. This way, when I go for a ride I know where the cards are and can snatch them quickly. I'm a little OCD about certain things, and this is one of them. I don't like to have to search all over the house for things when I need them. Admittedly I'm not the most organized person in the world, and always putting my document pouch on my desk is my small way of keeping things under control.

You've probably already jumped ahead: When I got ready to ride yesterday I could not find the damn document pouch. It was gone...as in GONE. I looked high...I looked low...I searched and searched in every conceivable place in this house...all the nooks, most of the crannies (the ones I could reach)...without success. I scoured the pockets of my three riding jackets...and even the pockets of my non-riding jackets.  Of course I searched the garage. Yes, I even searched wherever it is that I know you're going to suggest.  But the pouch had simply vanished into thin air. Which was impossible, but there ya go.

Well, no big deal, right? I mean, in this day and age the cops don't really need for you to physically carry your registration form; they can tell via their computer who the vehicle is registered to before they ever get out of their car. And yes, they do check before they come up to greet you with that loaded question: Do you know how fast you were going? And although they cannot access our specific insurance information, they know we have insurance because if we don't, Florida cancels your registration and suspends your driver's license.  Nevertheless we still have to carry proof-of-insurance. I'm just anal enough that I refuse to ride or drive unless my required documents are with me. The one time you go out without them is when you'll get stopped, for sure.

The insurance card is available online, so I went on Geico's website and downloaded a new one. But guess what? My printer wouldn't.  Wouldn't print, that is.  Of all days to choose to glitch and not work, it had to pick this one. There was no error message like I usually get when something fixable is wrong. I'd click “PRINT” and...nothing...would happen other than it would send me back to the document page.  Very strange.

Okay, still no big deal: Florida accepts proof-of-insurance on your cellphone. So I saved the insurance card to my computer as both a picture and a PDF. Guess what? I couldn't even send the picture electronically to my phone. Now it was giving me a "corrupt file" message.  (I could have just had Geico email me a card and keep it on my phone but in my aggravation I did not think of it.)

So I was, like, "What the...?"

At this point I had to stop. The universe was sending me a pretty clear message that it did not want me riding my motorcycle yesterday. Not only was I not listening but I was in fact doing everything in my power to circumvent it. I thought about just saying, “Screw it,” and going riding anyway. But I can't do that.

So I did not ride my motorcycle yesterday. It was probably best that I did not. Sometimes we just have to obey the signs.

Postscript:  It is now the next day.  No, the pouch has not turned up although I'm confident that it will.  But my printer is working fine today although I did exactly nothing differently.

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