Prequel to A Hobby. a.k.a. Great Expectations

I goofed around a lot when I was in grade school. While all my other siblings had their heads buried in their notes during exam week, I was climbing trees or collecting colorful rocks and leaves. It was so weird to me, as a young kid, to get so stressed over exams when it was such a beautiful day outside to play! So whenever I was healthy enough to play, I played. 

But there was one exam that my parents wanted me to do really well, and it was the entrance exam to this high school that every one of my siblings went to. It was just a small rural high school, but what I really wanted was to go to art school. Unfortunately, that was out of the question. I’d go hungry, they said. There’s no money in art. We’re not letting you take the exam to that school up in the boondocks. You take the test for countryside high where they have a more science oriented curriculum. 

To soften their ultimatum, they said they'd buy me a piano if I passed. You can study music and art on the side.

The school they wanted me in was only taking 120 students so if I couldn’t go to art school, then I reeeaally wanted to have a piano. So I studied, took the exam, and ranked 48th out of about 1,000 takers. Easy peasy. 

I got in, and then they said no, the piano is too expensive. 

Then they shouldn’t have promised. 

So anyway, it was my 3rd year in countryside high, and looming was the big entrance exam for college. They REALLY wanted me to study nearby and so again with the bribe. Get into University and we’ll get you the piano this time. And so I did. 

Unfortunately my EQ is way below my IQ in that I never seem to learn when people are bullshitting me. I honestly can’t tell if I’m walking on crap until I’m up to my nostrils in it. Because they’re my parents, for God’s sake, I should be able to trust them, right? 

Not all the time, apparently. Again I got into the school they wanted. Again with the excuses. They didn’t have the money, they said, even as a library was being constructed at home to house our books, even as they were funding my brother’s cut-flower business, even as they were purchasing new property in the next town. No money? Okay. I'm THAT gullible, I believe you.

Then you shouldn’t have promised. 

But there was a ray of hope. One day during my 3rd year in college, Tatay (Dad) asked me quietly, “Would you like to have a motorcycle or a piano?” 

“Of course a PIANO!!” 

“Think about it, a motorcycle is more practical.” 

“A piano. You’ve been promising me that since grade school.” 

Then he nodded and turned away.

And so the next week I walked home after class as usual. I opened our gate and Tadaaaaah!!!! 

There 

was 

a 

MOTORCYCLE!!! 

A blue Honda C90. 

Just for me they said. 

I just stared at them and went to my room in shock. 

And generally lost trust in people. 

“Well, we noticed you were always in a hurry or running late and we thought this could help you.” 

Then you shouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t my decision. 

While most parents cringe at the thought of their children driving motorcycles, mine shoved one into my face when the thought never even crossed my mind. I like walking. I touch plants when I do. Trees are awesome, flowers make me smile. Clouds look so soft and I burn pent up teenage angst as I walk. 

How could they think that 

me in a hurry + motorcycle = a good idea ?

Or how about the usual reason I’m in a hurry: 

me without enough sleep + motorcycle = a good idea ?

Because right then, 

me in a dark mood + motorcycle = a terrible idea

Two accidents, one from driving in a hurry and another for falling asleep on the road within the first 7 years of my driving and it still blows my mind. Really. I’m sure they also had second thoughts about the wisdom of the choice they never gave. 

So I never really appreciated learning how to drive a motorcycle until my first long-ish solo ride about a decade later.  

But that is a story for another time. 

The end. 

Thank you for reading. This is the story about how I got my first motorcycle. Let me know about any of your memorable “firsts” in the comments below.