I'm licensed to do what now?

After about 18 hours spent in a classroom and on the, uh, range, I am now the proud holder of a motorcycle license. I also have a bit of a sunburn on the back of my neck. The latter I earned by tooling around a paved lot while never getting above 2nd-gear. The former was acquired the same way. I've spent some time reflecting on the whole experience—T says possibly too much time.

True to form, The T turned my commentary on the course into an example of learning theory. Let me explain. A student in the class said she was taking the class because she bought a 400cc scooter to ride to work and she'd heard that if she was caught on the road, it would be taken away. She does not have a permit for the scooter. She seemed to think that it would be impounded because it was a scooter. I tried to explain to her that it would be impounded because she didn't have a driver's permit to ride it on the road. I guess she didn't believe me because the next day when the instructor asked her why she was taking the class, she said the same thing. She wanted her motorcycle license because she thought she needed to get a motorcycle because a scooter could not be on the road. She did not understand the role the driver's permit played in the situation. The scooter is completely street legal. It would have been impounded because of the lack of a permit, not because it is not a motorcycle.

It was fascinating to me to watch how my suggestion of necessary paperwork was ignored. This is where T's learning lesson comes in. People, i.e., students, will hold on to their beliefs until they can mesh new information with their old (possibly incorrect) understanding to come to a new understanding. This woman had it in her head that it was the mere existence of the scooter on the road that was the problem and not the lack of paperwork. I wonder if she's shopping for a Harley right now because she still doesn't get it.

(Is this where I mention she is in the country on a green card and that little bit of paperwork she seems to understand just fine?)

When The T has talked about how people hold on to what they understand during our many education conversations, I've nodded my head and agreed. It makes sense. I've then walked into a classroom and wonder why my students make mistakes that were addressed and discussed previously. Their understanding of the math is similar to the scooter-chick's understanding of impounding: each party is holding on to what they know because new info has not been integrated into their belief structures—yet (hopefully 'yet'). Now I'm pondering my role as an instructor to help students with this integration of new info. This falls into Leading a Horse to Water scenario so I know I can't just give them the info and think that they'll immediately believe in it and integrate it and understand it. But how far do I lead? Do I walk right to the water? Do I just provide a map and compass? Do I try to come up with more detail in this analogy when I could be doing other things?

ponder ponder ponder

Lessons learned

Lesson the First, learned while riding Clickwheel:


Don't sneeze with the helmet face shield down.

Zoom zoom

There's a new toy in the house. This is the first gadget I have ever bought with which I can cause physical harm to myself and others, text-walking injuries notwithstanding. I am now the zippy owner of a scooter named Clickwheel.

Original photo at Motorcycle Philippines

I've been riding it for about six weeks now and it is a hoot. What a blast! Zoom zoom.

Yes, zoom zoom indeed. And I haven't even gone faster than 30 mph yet! This speed limit has not meant a limit on unadulterated joy, however. I am restricted from, ahem, riding it like I stole it so that the engine is broken in correctly. After reading a little about this on the interweb, I am happy to maintain STL* speed in return for payback over the life of the engine in higher mileage and less pollution. I have only 200 more miles to go before I go to 31 mph and beyond!

I have washed Clickwheel. I have not even washed the Prius which cost seven-and-one-half times more money.

I have successfully changed Clickwheel's oil. This is an event that The T thinks of fondly as evidence that I am fried from the academic year. It took multiple trips to multiple stores for me to successfully acquire and return and try again to acquire all the materials I needed to swap used dinosaur juice for new dinosaur juice.

First I bought a drip pan and a funnel and oil. I stood Clickwheel up on her kickstand and quickly realized that the drip pan was not going to fit between the rear wheel and said stand. So the drip pan was returned. This accounts for two trips. I went to a different store to find a drip pan substitute. I found a six-inch wide roller pan used for painting. I also found a 21-piece socket wrench set with a 17 mm socket perfect for removing the oil plug. However, always the conscientious consumer, I looked around and found—for only a dollar more—a 40-piece socket wrench set. Nineteen more pieces for a buck? What a deal. I verified that the 17 mm socket was in the 21-piece socket set, placed it back on the shelf and made my way home only to return immediately once I realized that the 40-piece socket set did not have a 17 mm socket.

If the oil didn't need changing before, it sure as hell did now.

You might think that the story ends there. Depending on where you are on the Funny vs. Pedantic spectrum at this moment, you're either reading on for more or you may have already abandoned this page for something more entertaining. If you're still here, please laugh with me as I share with you what I should have thought of at the beginning of the oil saga: there is a tool kit in the stowaway zone. Yup, in the caboose where the iPhone charging port (!!) can be found is a collection of wrenches and other forged from steel items suitable for wrenching and other tasks associated with scooter engine maintenance.

I foresee future oil changes taking far less time.


* Sci-fi fans may know FTL as faster than light. STL would be the opposite.