Chris vs. Rene: Learning to Ride a Motorcycle

Motorcycles have always appealed to me. I've spent my life dreaming about how awesome and badass I could look if only I ever met someone who would teach me how to ride without killing myself or separating my legs from the rest of my body. Much to my delight, a friend of mine recently bought a bike and even offered to let Chris and I try to ride it.

I was fricken thrilled.

Just the mere thought of me potentially learning how to ride a motorcycle had me googling the sexiest chick bike outfits I could find, and plotting out which helmet would make me look the coolest. Chris was pretty excited, too. I assume not to the same degree - after all, he didn't google sexy chick bike outfits - but it had been a desire of his, too.

So our friend came over, brought the motorcycle to our backyard, and showed me how to work it, then told me to try and do circles in the grass.

This is what happened:


I hardly made it a whole foot before I stalled it and toppled over.

Chris on the other hand...



... is a giant douchebag who is naturally amazing at whatever the hell he touches. I think I might even be dating a robot.



And no, I still have not learned how to ride a freaking motorcycle.