So getting a divorce is not nearly as simple as it would be if California was governed by Sharia law and I could walk up to my wife and say "I divorce you. I divorce you. I divorce you."
Divorce in America is, basically, legal extortion, and I am about to have happen to me what Congress is doing to the American people, that is, (symbolically) getting fucked in the asshole until my rectum ruptures and squirts hot blood all over the place. My financial outlook is uncertain, to say the least, and until I know just how much this is going to cost me, I am no longer leaving anytime soon.
Kinky, my daily rider, a gal I can ride all day with no complaints, and someone who is not trying to ass rape me has been holding up great. I still need to replace that damned light bulb, but I did change the oil and lube the chain recently in the parking garage at work over the weekend leaving a snail trail of lube across the garage floor. For those of you who live in dense, urban environments and do not have access to a spacious garage, I highly recommend finding a secure location to work on your motorcycle that is not your home. A place where you can, say, dump your oil in the dumpster of a government office.
I am also in the process of opening up a martial arts & fitness academy with a few friends. It will be difficult to get away from this new business until it is on a solid foundation and I can hire someone to replace me.
I still ride every day. I still am mechanically uninclined. I still dream of getting away.