Agenda:
Ride 4 wheels to welcome in 40 years Or, if you want the boring version, ride quads for my 40th birthday.
Weather Conditions: 76 degrees; Wind Gusts: 28 mph
Disclaimer: You may see will see unsavory words in this post.
If you see the words: Fuck; shit; mutha fucker; fucken shit; holy fuck... or any combination of those, I want you to replace those words with the image below. I also want you to go to your kitchen, get ice out of your frigerator, break it up into sharp pieces, and have someone throw the ice needles at your face really hard. That's what a sandstorm feels like, and this tale is about a girl in a sandstorm. A scared girl in a sandstorm. A scared girl in a sandstorm, who's about to get on a quad going 20 miles an hour, against 28 mph winds.
When we pulled into the Palm Springs lot ready for our day of riding quads it was pretty apparent that the wind wanted to toy with me.
I opened the car door.
The wind shut the door.
I laughed nervously.
The wind responded by shaking the car.
Pff-ha-ha-hee… I mustered out a nervous laugh. Really? We’re going to ride in this wind? I asked myself. At this point Vanessa and Kristal got out of the car. I took that as the universes response to my question.
O.k., get out of the car Ivon, you’re going to be fine. Pfft-cuh-ha-ha. Another nervous giggle, not a good sign. I suddenly wanted to pee. Another bad sign.
Talking myself through life threatening situations; like the time I almost choked on a jolly rancher; or the time I was losing consciousness in a club restroom because I drank one too many Adios-Mother-Fuckers, is always a necessary process. So, I continued. Ivon, just copy everything that Kristal and Vanessa do. Unless you see the grim reaper over their shoulder- don’t panic. Okay. I had a plan. I was ready to keep walking toward my doom. The registration office.
I don't know about you, but when wind starts blowing so hard trees shake; roofs threaten to leave their posts; and sand blasts so hard, it feels like a million needles stabbing your delicate parts... my instinct is to seek shelter, cuddle up into a ball, and pray for mommy to come save me, but that's JUST me. Since I was with witnesses who could tell the tale of my cowardice, I headed off into the wind, so that I can tell my own tale of tears and torture.
Step 1. Walk into dungeon.
Step 2. Watch stupid video about rules and such (By the way: Nowhere in this video did it explain what I should do in the event of sand emergency).
Step 3. Try not to lose interest in stupid video.
Step 4. Go put plastic nets over your head, so you could look stupid (I'm assuming that's the reason they made us wear them, because they never quite explained what they were for).
Step 5. Put on goggles, unless you want to be crying sand-tears for the next forty years (The goggles, not just mine, but all the goggles, had a haze on them that prevented a seeing person from...seeing).
Step 6. Find a helmet that fits. This wasn't easy. I went through 3 helmets before I could find one that didn't make my goggles swallow my face and didn't teeter so much it would make my head pitch over.
My supplies were on but I couldn't get past the fact that the mobile-mini we were in was shaking so hard in the wind, it felt like the only option was for it to spiral off into the sky and head to Kansas via tornado... and that's when my nerves began to boil over.
It wasn't vanity that kept me from including myself in the picture below...and it wasn't that I didn't have a far enough reach to include us all in the picture. It was the googles of fog that prevented me from spying myself (or anyone else) in the shot. I just guessed where we were, and snapped the picture.
“Okay, get on your quad.” Shouted the lady who looked in charge of bossing us around.
Get on the quad? Should I use this time to tell her that I failed my bike-riding exam 5 years ago? Should I tell her that I almost killed my instructor by squeezing the accelerator instead of the brake during my test? No, I decided. Just copy Kristal and Vanessa. Stick to plan. Don’t divert. Diverting gets you in trouble.
I listened to myself, and got on a quad (the quad behind Vanessa and next to Kristal), the quad ideal for copy maximization.
Copy them, I repeated to myself.
“Psssst, Vaness. Pssssssstt, hey Vaness.” I called out to Vanessa over the roar of winds, roof rattlings and motor hums. When she turned around I asked her, “How do you ride these things?”
Vanessa smiled “The last time I did it was years ago and I don’t remember.” She confessed.
Plan B: Copy Kristal
I turned and looked at Kristal. "Isnt' this fun? I'm going to ride FAST!" she said with a big smile on her face.
Plan C: Improvise
At that point a cute little 11 year old-looking girl came around to show us all how to turn on our bikes, and show us where the gears and brakes were. Cute little girl, you can't keep me alive. I thought. She made an effort to show me where everything was and all I could think was: She's so little, isn't it embarrasing that she knows what to do and you don't.... pretend you already know Ivon. I nodded and said, "Yup" to everything she said. It wasn't until she walked away that I thought, Shit! What did she say?!
"Psssst, Vaness. Psssssssst, hey Vaness." Vanessa turned around again. "How do you ride these things?" I repeated my question because I figured I had better odds, considering that the 11 year old looking girl showed Vanessa what to do before she stopped with me.
"This is the brake, and this is where you change gears." She said.
"Yes but... how do you use them?" I asked.
"I don't know." She said. "But she did say you have to remember what gear you're in because it's really important not to...."
Remember what gear you're in. I tried to lock that in and before I knew it, I forgot the rest of what Vaness said.
It was time to go and Vanessa was off in front of me and when I turned to look at Kristal she was zooming off in the direction of the sand hills, tires and dust... This is your gear. This is your brake. I repeated to myself. I squeezed the throttle, jerked forward and stalled. "Fuck." Eleven came over, turned the quad back on and said, "Go ahead." I squeezed the throttle, jerked forward and stalled. "No, do it softly." She reprimanded. She turned the bike back on and said, "Gently. Go." I squeezed the throttle, jerked forward and stalled. Oh shit. This is happening, I thought. This continued two more times (including once when she asked me to get off the quad) before I was successfully able to get my bike moving gently forward and unclogging the line of quads that were being held hostage by my defective bike... or whatever.
Just drive slow Ivon. Just stay in first gear. Soon though, the thunderous rev of my bike scared me enough to try second gear. It's still running! Wow. This is sort of.... fun. A smile came over my face, and soon I was pretty sure I was blending in like, well, like an 11 year old.
The bossy lady told us to stay in the “kid section” until we knew what we were doing. She also said to zig-zag to go uphill (or you’ll get stuck and no one will unstick you); to zig-zag to go downhill; circle around the bowls to get in and out (or you’ll get stuck again); to watch out- and stay clear of-other riders; and to NEVER, EVER, under ANY circumstances put our feet on the ground, unless you want to lose them. At least that’s what I thought would happen to them. She didn’t quite say what would, but I can’t imagine she’d say “NEVER, EVER” if we’d still have them on the other side of that.
Leave here with both your feet Ivon. Don’t put them down like you did during your motorcycle driving test years ago. You’ve grown since then. You can follow directions now. Talking myself through this was turning out to be a cinch.
Three circles around the kiddie area and I was off and trying to “lean into it” like bikers tell people to do.
The first person I saw was a young twenty-something girl who was doing circles in the bowl. Hell no. I’m not getting stuck again, I thought. Stay away from the bowls Ivon. But soon I realized that the bowls were everywhere. Like landmines scattered throughout my path. Some were small and shallow and others were wide and deep. Shit. Holy-shit…and just when I thought I had come across the shit that would take me under, I turned a corner and stared directly into a wall of sand rushing toward me. “What the fu….?!” And with that “fu…” I had a mouthful of sand and sharp prickly bites all over me. Turn away! I thought, only to end up running over a tire and getting stuck with my ear facing the sand wall. An earful of sand is just as fun as a mouthful of sand. I promise you.
Damn. Does anyone else feel this? Why isn't everybody riding back? Are we still doing this? Ride in the sand wave? No one else looked concerned. Blend in Ivon, or it'll be like the time you refused to walk home from school in the second grade when your teacher told you that there was a strange man outside. Your grandma can't come to pick you up this time and take you home. Keep riding. Ok. My self-talk was beginning to talk back.
I looked around for Kristal who was up on the hill. Look away, she's waving you over to the hill! I turned quickly and looked for Vanessa who was caught in another sand blast, back exposed to the wind. I felt the prickly bites on my face from where I was, I can't imagine what it felt like with half your back exposed to the wind. I don't know what she was thinking, but back where I was, life was...good?
"Fuck. Fucken shit. Muther-fucken shit..." I couldn't control my cursing. The sand blasts kept coming and between reprieves, I was dodging bowls, spitting out sand, wanting to pee (because of the vibration of the bike) and I was busy looking like an 11 year old pro. I don't know how long it had been, but we had paid for 45 minutes.
The ride was a series of rapid fire thoughts at this point: Fuck. I wonder if I look cool? Shit, that hurts... I probably look like I do this all the time. I have to use the bathroom. Don't stop your bike Ivon because you don't know how to restart it. What gear am I in? Has it been forty-five minutes? Watch out for that bowl. Phew! I almost fell in. FUCK! This fucken sand! Shit that hurts! Ouch! There goes Vanessa, bare-back...Ow. NO Kristal I am NOT riding over there! I thought, waving her away.
CRASH. It wasn't my fault. It was the fault of the distracted rider who was obviously not thinking clearly, like I was, and that's why he ran over tires and crashed right into me.
My foot was throbbing. Why? I looked down to see a tire mark up my leg. I... I put my foot down. I nearly lost my foot! Asshole! I must have been O.K. because the curse words didn't even flinch, even though my leg was screaming, it was nothing compared to the sand assaults.
"Come in!" The man screamed at me. Yes! It was over. I survived my 40th year, rite of passage. I looked into the eye of the storm and said, Fuck! With the courage of an 11 year old.
I marked quad riding off my bucket list, like I came to do, and now... I could pee.
"Wow! That was awesome! Did you have fun?! When are we coming back?!..." Kristal was more than just a little excited when it was all over.
Walking back to the car Kristal cleaned out her pocket one at a time and tossed out the riders dust that had accumulated. I'll affectionately call it, "fuck"-dust. Vanessa, on the other hand, had to opt for creating a changing room in the parking lot to shake the sand loose from her skinny jeans because of the "journey" the sand took while hitting her exposed back.
Vanessa taking it with a chuckle and shake of her pants.
My 40th birthday was a good day. I laughed harder than I had in my whole 39th year. Mastered cursing with the stamina of a pirate. I had a sandy ear to prove that I survived a sandstorm. A bruise to prove that I could survive being run over by a quad with my limbs attached...and I had a secret to keep me comfort for the next year.
I would rather blog about riding quads in a sandstorm, than do it again. The end.
Um, sounds like fun? LOL.... LOVE IT!
Posted by: Clare | 08/20/2012 at 09:08 AM
Thanks Banesser! THAT was a good day!
Posted by: Psycho-som | 08/19/2012 at 09:18 PM
I laughed pretty hard as I relived this day through your blog. Loved it and loved celebrating your 40th birthday with you. This blog was a long time coming!
Posted by: vanessa | 08/19/2012 at 08:46 PM