This is a guest posting from AndrewZRX:I need to do something about the placenta in the freezer. My wife refuses to put anything into the same compartment. She says she won’t eat anything that’s been near it. My plan was to dry it and crush it up, then bring the powder to my father’s cottage in Wakefield, Quebec. I was going to plant a maple tree with it. But apparently it takes about 12 hours to dry a placenta properly, and it smells up the house. She’s having none of it. So. Seems I have to get rid of it.
Speaking of motorcycles: I like the roundabouts here, but I sure miss driving on the right. It’s the biker wave. You can’t really do it properly over here. The controls are on the same side, but because the roads are backwards, the wave looks like you’re waving to someone on the sidewalk (pavement) to your left, rather than someone across the road on your right. (Most of us have learned that the wave must be executed with the left hand, to keep the right on the throttle and covering the brake). So if you want to wave, instead of just coolly letting your left hand off and giving a wee flick, you have to raise your hand high enough so the other guy will see it. It’s too awkward. I won’t do it.
Bruce is 11 and ½ weeks old now. (Why can’t he just be three months old? When do we stop counting in weeks?) He turned out to be more than I thought. He’s just so beautiful. I get to see him change every day, developing, figuring stuff out. He looks at me this certain way sometimes, this look that says: I am alive, and I find it quite good indeed. But the thing is, he doesn’t look like a baby. He looks like his own witty wee soul. He’s already here. He’s sentient, self-aware, and already has a sense of humour. And I’m his Dad.
At first I tried the head nod. But what if you were just bouncing over a bump? It wasn’t clear. Then an Irish biker friend told me that Europeans wave with their feet. Good idea – that right foot isn’t usually doing anything special anyways. So I tried it. I felt stupid. Like, really stupid. So I tried something else – using my right knee, foot on the peg, but opening my leg a little. It didn’t feel stupid. It felt wrong, like I was sending a signal. And I never got a response. I wonder what would have happened if I tried that in Germany. In black leather.
Back on the Bike That Blew, I settled for the head tilt, a popular option in Scotland. A nod with a rightward spazz of the neck. But it was so unsatisfying.
The new Kawasaki Versys I’m riding has a high slam trigger switch, like pulling the turn signal stalk on a car. This is how I now acknowledge my motorcycling brethren. No contortions of the head, no left arm raised in the air like some fucked up salute, and no encouraging the Germans. Just a flick of the high beams.
The wave is an important part of the biking experience. It means more than just hey, look at us, we’re bikers! It means we recognize the awesomeness of it. It means we respect each other for keeping the rubber side down. It means we’ll help each other when we’re in trouble.
I can’t wait to get Bruce on the back of the bike. My wife says, “No. No way in hell”. But I know just what she means. She means: “I know there’s no way of stopping you. Just promise me you’ll be safe”. And I will.
All the firsts are all the time. Just like that, he’s now telling us stories. I don’t understand every nuance, but I think I’m getting his drift. It’s a hell of a thing! He’s going to blow my mind when he first speaks.
The placenta? I can’t just throw it out, not after all this. So I’ve been meaning to bury that placenta in the backyard. I just haven’t got around to it. And it’s sure to come up again, in the middle of an argument about something else entirely. I need to head that off. But I just can’t seem to find the shovel.
AndrewZRX lives in Scotland. Everybody has to be somewhere.
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