My Ural Got a Boo Boo and That Makes Me Sad
There are few things as soul crushing as hearing something fall over in the garage followed by the cavernous echo of whatever that thing was bouncing off of your sidecar.
Then when you walk into the garage to find a dent and the once perfect orange paint torn down to the metal? Ugh. It takes every ounce of will you can muster not to flip the fuck out.
This type of moment is precisely when I need to work on my attachment to “things.” It’s just a motorcycle with a scratch. But initially upon seeing the dig, it was like my whole body recoiled in horror and electricity ran across the top of my skin.
Note to self: Just because something isn’t perfect doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful. You know this.
My sweetie bought me a big pink bandaid magnet until I can have the issue addressed. It makes it much easier to pretend the scar doesn’t exist.