As you can see, I'm not going anywhere this weekend. Not to the Petrified National Forest, not to the Black Mesa Ranch and Goat Cheese Dairy, not to Fool Hollow Lake Recreation Area and I certainly won't be riding through Salt River Canyon, or down AZ 191.
It still won't start. Battery charged, tested, replaced, spark plugs, safety shut off switches, etc. etc. - a whole day of messing about and you can see I've gotten nowhere fast. I am impressed that I was remarkably patient all day. You know, the whole "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" thing.
It was about 4:30pm when I really lost heart. I'm really, really not going, am I? It'll be two MORE years before I get another chance to take this trip. I went to pick up my dog and had just walked in the door when my good friend called me.
Phone: Ring Ring
Me: [tragically] "Hello?"
Her: "Where are you??"
Me: [even more tragically] "Still here."
Her: "Put on your dancing shoes, we're taking a flamenco lesson!"
I had about enough time to toss on a skirt and clean the grease out from under three of my fingernails. What a silly time we had, stomping our feet and trying to discern left from right. After that, we feasted on tapas, sangria and friendship at one of my favorite restaurants anywhere, Casa Vicente.
What good friends I have.
Afterthought: My bike's broken. Does that mean I can go buy that Ducati I've been talking about?