As we get older, our lives get smaller. Sometimes by necessity. Sometimes by choice. I doubt I'll be one of those who sits quietly in front of the TV waiting until God tells me it's time to go home. When I am an old woman, I want to be interesting and interested. I don't want to feel defeated by life, I want to be able to meet life with laughter and courage and grace. Well -- maybe not with grace, but at least with style. I don't want to be a crabby old hag who frightens children with her bad temper. I want to rock.

To make that happen, I'll have to step out of my comfort zone every now and again.

In March, I bought a scooter. I'd been thinking about it for a while, and had just about given up on the idea when I saw an interview with a couple of twins from New Zealand who turned 100 in March. I'm a twin, so their energy and cheerfulness and capability caught my eye. When asked if they had any regrets, they said, "none". Except one of them added that she'd wished she "bought that scooter". That decided me there and then. When I'm 100, I don't want to regret not having bought the scooter.

Well, in these busy times in this part of the world, getting a scooter is easy. Driving it legally is not so easy. Graduated licenses. Testing according to class. Is it a scooter? Is it a motorcycle? It's complicated. So to get the qualifications I needed, I took a motorcycle course at a nearby college.

Talk about taking you out of your comfort zone.

In my class, a third of the group failed to pass the final test - all but one of us women over 35. I can never recall being that frustrated in my life. I didn't want to be there. I have always been a quick study but that was not the case this time. I hated the unfairness of knowing that the youngsters had a distinct advantage. I felt like an idiot, and a failure. And to add insult to injury, my husband, who only took the course because I was taking it, passed. Not fair! I called my daughter afterwards and cried on the phone.

It was an amazing course. They jammed a lot into the two days of study. The instructors were all competent and kind and very enthusiastic about motorcycling. I learned a lot in a very short time. And not just about how to drive their strange little motorcycles. I learned a lot about about failure. And humility. And fun. And anxiety.

Afterwards, I took myself home and gave the whole experience some thought over the next week. What follows here is some of what I learned and made note of while preparing for the retest.

1. Strategies can fail:

I knew that when I retested I wanted to NOT be thinking about how much I didn't want to be there or how tough it was or how weird that little motorcycle was, or how unfair it was. I needed something positive I could say to myself while there. I came up with a loud mental "Yee Haw!" I even practiced yelling it out loud while driving alone in my car. Felt great. But I knew there was no guarantee that this or any other strategy would work.

2. Feeling stupid doesn't mean being stupid:

I know I'm not stupid even though I felt that way. I'm a fast learner. But through this, I better understand kids who lag behind in school. I have seen first hand how frustrating it can be to be asked to multiply 6 x 7 when you haven't quite mastered 1 + 2. The young men who seem to be able to drive these bikes without effort may be well suited to learn quickly in this course, but don't count me out. I am not too old to lay down a few new neural pathways. It just might take me a bit longer.

3. Don't take failure personally:

I may stall that blasted bike at a crucial moment. I may fail the test again. That doesn't mean I am not meant to drive my scooter. It just means I might fail again. I want to adopt Antonio's attitude. Antonio failed on his first try and was testing again the same evening I was. A successful and wealthy businessman with 60 or 65 years of life experience behind him, he shrugged and said, "This is hard. But if I fail tonight, I'll just take the test again." Failure didn't bother him a bit. I loved this. Failure does not have to be taken personally. It may be that the test is failing me. If I had been tested for effort and determination I would have passed with flying colours.

4. Life humbles us:

I have always been a good driver. I took to driving a car easily and naturally. I expected to take to this just as easily, maybe even passing with few or no demerits. The reality was that it wasn't as easy as the car. And the first test was not pretty. I have to let it be okay to have the second try not be pretty either. Ugly, even. I just have to get through it. Humility is not pretty.

5. I can feel anxious and still manage:

My hands were shaking the first time around and yet I almost passed. I figure they might be shaking again the second time, too. Deep breathing. Visualizations. Alternate nostril breathing. I have tricks I can use. But fear is fear is fear and there might be nothing more I can do about shaky hands than let them shake. But I read something that helps. I don't have to be concerned about feeling anxious. I don't have to feel anxious about feeling anxious. As irrational as it sounds, I can forgive the feelings of anxiety.

6. I may be defeated by a test, but I don't have to feel defeated by life:

By moving out of my comfort zone, I am giving myself room to stretch and grow and learn. Hopefully some of what I am learning will help when I am older and life gets smaller in ways that I can't avoid.

I want to be an old lady who rocks. And that may happen. But in the end, it really is out of my hands. For now, I am enjoying the scooter. It's fun to drive through town and have little kids wave at me on my scooter as I go by them.

And in case you are wondering, yes, I passed the test the second time around.
It wasn't pretty, but I got through it.

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