Taking it Down

As I slid along the pavement, I had plenty of time to think.

In the four or five seconds it took to leave the paved surface of the road and hit the gravel, a whole range of questions and scenarios rolled through my mind.

There was, of course, the instant of denial and the inevitable, “Oh S@%T” factor: “I can’t believe I just let it get out from under me like that. Man, this is gonna hurt.” This went through my mind fairly quickly, because the edge of the road surface was rapidly approaching me and I had to think over other things.

The surroundings of this little tableau were actually quite nice. Sunny day, dry road surface, nice greenery on either side. No shoulder to speak of. The road had been making a gentle left hand bend, which, in the wonderful words of the professionals at the scene, I had “failed to negotiate.”

Yup. Failed miserably, I’d say, if leaving the road entirely constitutes a failure.

I had, by this time noticed that the road, which was slightly banked in the run, had a shoulder which dropped off by about a foot and then gracefully became a gravel pit for about fifteen feet. The farther off the road you got; the larger the gavel became, until it resembled the cornerstones of buildings.

It was colorfully strewn with various items to catch the eye, such as pieces of tire, plastic containers and un-named body parts. I may have noticed a ’48 Pontiac, as I went sliding by.

See, I had been doing about eighty and really bending the bike around this turn. I was cool: a rider of at least fifteen years experience (therefore totally bulletproof, of course), and I just KNEW that I could do those things I had seen in the videos. Unfortunately, the bike apparently did NOT know that, and, as I lost control, I realized that a new, educational experience was about to happen.

This one would be titled, “How much Demerol would you like, Kick?”

As I slide along, I also thought about the upcoming ‘dismount’. Those who have done this know that it doesn’t work like those cool dirt-bike broad slides and a stand up finish. You generally fall over. Hard.

So, as I’m heading for the gravel, still doing about sixty-five, I remember tapping the brake pedal, in a vain hope that I might keep the bike more or less upright when I left the road. I also remember consciously trying to ease the front brake on, rather than clutch the lever demonically, so as to leave myself some small shred of control. (Professional racers and safety instructors: just go right by this part.) I didn’t say it was a GOOD plan. It’s just what ran through my mind at the time.

So….I hit the gravel.

NOW we’re having some fun! Woo hooo! Absolutely NO steering to speak of, and it feels like I am riding through giant pillows filled with Motor Honey. I can actually feel the muscles in my shoulders and forearms running out of juice. Must be a little tense up there. Can’t worry about that, now, because my left foot isn’t responding too fast.

Oh, that’s why: broke it. No problem, I got another one. Besides, the boots will hold it together while I attempt to stop and remain alive.

Nice scenery, I notice, as the rocks in the gravel become lawnmower-sized. Those trees don’t look close enough to hit at any real speed.

By now, I have scrubbed off enough speed that I am down to about forty and the brakes are actually responding. Unfortunately, they do not appear to be strong enough to let me avoid the steel chain link fence ahead, which, I note, is painted a happy yellow color. I remember thinking that the yellow gouges will probably not go well with the color of my tank.

In what must have been a good joke for the gods of bike crashes, I actually hit the fence and it sort of catches me. One of the fence posts breaks and the whole affair sort of stretches out like a tennis net and rebounds, dumping me on the ground in heap of bike, gravel, dirt, tree branches and body parts, mostly mine.

So, the final scene looks like this:

Bike – Left side scrapes and gouges, gravel stuck in various unlikely spots, right foot peg bent nearly vertical (that’s when my foot broke), handle bars scraped and grips ground off. Right side nicely scraped with chain link fence-shaped scrapes (complete with happy yellow paint), and much chrome gashed up. Oh yeah…no mirrors left.

Me – Broken left foot, strained right shoulder, bruises and a helmet full of sweat.

Result – Extremely lucky, and now possessed of a great volume of new knowledge. It could have been far worse.

All this took place many years ago, on a bike I no longer own. I have become a better rider in many ways since then, but I have also gotten older and my reactions are probably slower. The lessons learned from that crash are part of my riding ‘mind-set’ now, and I have added things along the way that make me a smarter and safer rider. I am past the point of having to prove anything to anyone, and, for me, ‘winning’ is having a great ride and coming home to enjoy the thought of taking another ride tomorrow!

Today, as I tossed my leg over for a ride, I had that quick blip of memory of taking it down, as I frequently do just before a ride. I think of it as a mental wake up call and a quick smack upside the head that says, “HEY! Yer not perfect, and stuff happens! Keep yer eyes open and yer mind sharp.”

Have fun, but ride safe.