Low key weekend.
Fix cooked one of his amazing breakfasts. That man has a way with breakfast food
Catching up on TV shows.
Ended the day in the garage. San Diego is expensive and Fix usually ends up spending a few hours a week in our garage, working on bikes and making some extra cash. I play shop girl, sometimes just keeping him company and sometimes actually getting my hands dirty. My father is the least handy person in the world, which means my knowledge of mechanics and tools can be summed up in one word: Zip. But Fix is a patient teacher and if I "accidentally" smear grease on my cheek I've found I can persuade him to make out with me like we're teenagers. (thanks '80s movies for that trick).
More TV shows and a silly amount of internet vegging.
Earlier wake up time.
Ride to the beach. Well... that was the plan anyways. Fix surprised me last week with a Sportster. As it's only been a week, her and I are still bonding. A half hour of riding, California sun on my skin and crisp fall wind in my hair, reveling in all the cliches written about riding motorcycles, the freedom, the exhilaration, the pure joy and fun of soaring over payment with a partner on your left, chasing the sun.
And then Amelia (my suziki savage that Fix was riding) died.
Four hours on the side of the road waiting for a tow.
Thank the gods for smart phones
And boyfriends capable of good conversation.
Finally rescued from purgatory.
Movie with friends. "On Any Sunday" with a bunch of motorcycle enthusiasts. Loved it.
Drive home in the fog. A quick kiss in the fog.
Curl up under the covers with the cold and the fog seeping in through the window and the dogs breathing deeply in their sleep.
Soundtrack of the weekend: Hozier