The cat is out of the bag

Raceface

Called my mother yesterday to say hi. We have a challenging relationship: she finds being nice a big challenge. (Is it funny because it's true? Not sure.) Anyway, called her up, said hey mom what news? And right when she answers the phone I can tell something is up. You know how when your mom gives you that weird tone, like there's some kind of issue? You know the one. Don't even pretend you don't know.

So something is off right away but I am well accustomed to this shit by now so I proceed as though nothing is odd. We get through about 80 seconds of small talk and she says, "So, how long have you been riding a motorcycle?"

Backstory: I ride a motorcycle. I opted not to tell my mom because she a) has no interest in motorcycles, b) has shown an alarmingly consistent ability to make irrational decisions about pretty much everything, and c) she would worry unnecessarily, to no good effect. That's the long version. The short version is that I didn't tell my mom I ride motorcycles because she is crazy, and I didn't want to feed the crazy. My sociopathic sister does enough of that all by herself. So.

No idea how she found out, but it's not like it is some kind of secret. I just didn't mention it.* The unfortunate part is that she felt hurt because she heard about it from someone else. I feel badly about that, because she thought I was keeping it from her for some weird mean reason (which makes sense if you're used to interacting with a sociopath, as in prev. paragraph). I assured her that was not the case, and apologized for the hurt feelings.

And then I mailed her a signed 8x10 of the above photo of me at the track, because I'm awesome like that.


* Sort of like how I didn't mention that I now own two motorcycles. What?!? It didn't come up! What was I supposed to say? I have two bikes that go so fast they will melt your face off? Don't judge me!