On Saturday I did my usual practice run. The little 1/4 mile stretch of highway I need to take from the storage facility to the parking lot was busy, busy, BUSY. So, I found a good sized opening, pulled out, made my run, and the first car to approach me was the sheriff.

He waved. I gave the typical biker finger salute. No, not that one. The two finger salute you assholes.

I made it to the parking lot.

I set up my "course" with the cups each carrying a stone to hold them down I'd been using. And, somehow, actually managed to do all the exercises I was aware of even with my monsterous truck sized bike. Except the offset weave. Standard tight weave, no problem. Offset weave? I'm clipping the last two cups with the rear wheel.

Close. So close.

But that's my last practice session before the class. I just won't have time during the week.

I'm thinking as close as I am that moving onto the 250-300 standard bikes they've got up at the course I'll probably be OK. Plus, two days of drills should put the polish on before the test.

I can only hope at this point. I've done as much preparation as I had time for.

Of course, there is that little voice in the back of my head telling me there's still a possibility I'm going to fail it. In some way I find that reassuring. Were I completely confident and ready to walk into that class thinking I knew it all, failure would be the most likely outcome. My hope is my very slight doubt will keep me on my toes and focused.

Mrs. NFB, in an effort to calm my nerves, told me, "don't fuck this up. I want to go for a ride on Saturday." Thanks, sweety.

Then we went to get a helmet for her on Saturday and she saw some people working on the course. She stared at them for about thirty seconds doing exercises and then said, "man, I am SOOOOOOOO nervous for you." Again, thanks sweety.

But, to be honest, disappointing myself would suck. However, disappointing her? I'd hate myself. Maybe she's trying to use her influence on me to make sure I do this right. Or maybe she's just tweaking me to try and relieve the tension.

It's not working.

I picked up the last of my supplies - a good solid set of riding boots. I was going to use my steel toed work shoes, but Mrs. NFB declared them a fashion no-no and told me to go buy real riding shoes. As much as I like the old steel toes, the new ones are more comfortable.

Tried out the jacket and the gloves during my final practice too. The jacket, for being mostly black (with big stand-out red stripes on it), is amazingly cool when I'm moving. Standing still it'd heat up like a circus tent painted black, but moving the vents work so well you really just feel like you've got on a light shirt. Motorcycle gear has come a long way since the eighties. The gloves were pretty good too, and eliminated the one problem I was having with my hand locking down on the throttle as I used it. My hand was just sort of naturally vice-gripping down as my fingers would solidify on the grip and my palm would slip back causing a tight lock no matter how much I concentrated on keeping it loose. With the gloves it's grippy all over, so everything moves at the same time. Bonus.

It's all set in motion now. Just need to finish those last few questions in the book and all that's left is to show up.

I'm not one to normally ask this of people, but I've got a lot riding on this one. So, if you feel so inclined, wish me luck. Or, better yet, wish me skill.

Laterz.