My Bad

I’ve been taking some heat since our vacation. There were a few incidences that have set my dear husband on the war path. And while I understand his concerns and the serious ramifications that could result from my actions, I am also secretly feeling a bit proud if not smug as well. Can a person really feel remorse and pride in the same action? It seems so, and I don’t believe I am such an unusual person in my feelings and this is why.

When I was a kid, there was a bully in the neighborhood who tortured me mercilessly. One day walking home from school carrying my prized art project, I was manhandled by this boy who then destroyed my art work. Furious, and for the first time, fighting back (having been told fighting was bad and never having done so) I gave the kid a good swift kick, which landed squarely in his crotch. He dropped like a rock, and being so young, I had no idea what had really happened.

I arrived home full of guilt, so I immediately confessed to my father. He asked me to recount what happened which I did. Upon hearing of the kick to the crotch, he did something I never expected. He seemed to be suppressing laughter. I was confused. He then told me not to worry about it. Yes, it was wrong to fight and one should never throw the first blow, but defending oneself was another matter and perfectly justified.

Fast forward to our vacation and following our fearless leader. Now he tends to like to challenge the speed limits. I have always had a bit of trouble following on the 650. With that bike, I always new when I was pressing the limits. However, Blaze, has no trouble with this at all. Heck, I zip along never realizing that the numbers are climbing. At one stop, Deb reports that when she saw the needle nearing 100 she pulled back.

100 MPH? Surely she was mistaken. She then mentioned that as I passed a few trucks, I did seem to be putting on the speed. Still unbelieving I walked over to my GPS which records maximum speed, and sure enough the number was 103! Wow, I had no idea! Our fearless leader seemed to be proud. My husband; not so much. While I understand the ramifications of such an act, inside, much like my father, on some level I am very proud of Blaze. She got me away from truckers, easily I might add, and never broke a sweat. I’m glad to know she has the power. Yet, I can understand my husband’s furry. I will have to learn to monitor and rein us in. If I have a smug look on my face while doing it, you’ll know why.