Sunday, October 03, 2004
There's an Old Cliche About Riding
"There are only two kinds of riders: those who have crashed and those who will".
I fit in the former category, and I can tell you that crashing sucks. Nothing can prepare you for the sickening split-second when you realize, despite all your training and experience, that the horizon has shifted and you're skimming across asphalt like a stone across water. If you're lucky (and I was), you live to ride another day. Good gear and the fortune of crashing on a deserted road saved my bacon. Still, you wonder "what if": what if a car had been crossing the narrow bridge where I crashed; what if I'd crashed 50 feet further down the road and hit the guardrail head first. Chance are I wouldn't be writing this if any one of a thousand other scenarios played out.
That was many years ago, and it never spoiled my apetite for riding. As soon as I finished up at the doctor, my wife drove me to the dealership so I could begin ordering replacement parts (THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is love). Took me about six months to rebuild the bike - piece by piece, one bolt at a time.
I had a lot of time to think in my downtime, and I came to the realization that the old cliche about crashing is bullshit. I didn't crash because it was "my time"; I crashed because I fucked up. I got complacent doing the same thing I'd done a hundred thousand times before. I was no longer paying attention to my corner setup, because I thought I was beyond crashing. Well, I learned the hard way that I wasn't.
I still believe there are only two kinds of riders, but the rest of the cliche has nothing to do with crashing. The two types? Those who practice their craft and those who don't. Since my wreck, every ride has been a learning experience. I catch mistakes in form MUCH earlier, and correct them before they become problems. I practice things like low speed manuevering, straight line braking and corner setup constantly. I've learned to listen to that little voice inside my head (VOICE, not VOICES - big difference), if something doesn't feel right, I'll turn around and head home. There are no guarantees that I'll never crash again (circumstances beyond my control, etc., etc.), but that's a risk I'm willing to take. I'm a much better rider because I applied the lessons learned, and won't allow myself to grow complacent again.
I fit in the former category, and I can tell you that crashing sucks. Nothing can prepare you for the sickening split-second when you realize, despite all your training and experience, that the horizon has shifted and you're skimming across asphalt like a stone across water. If you're lucky (and I was), you live to ride another day. Good gear and the fortune of crashing on a deserted road saved my bacon. Still, you wonder "what if": what if a car had been crossing the narrow bridge where I crashed; what if I'd crashed 50 feet further down the road and hit the guardrail head first. Chance are I wouldn't be writing this if any one of a thousand other scenarios played out.
That was many years ago, and it never spoiled my apetite for riding. As soon as I finished up at the doctor, my wife drove me to the dealership so I could begin ordering replacement parts (THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is love). Took me about six months to rebuild the bike - piece by piece, one bolt at a time.
I had a lot of time to think in my downtime, and I came to the realization that the old cliche about crashing is bullshit. I didn't crash because it was "my time"; I crashed because I fucked up. I got complacent doing the same thing I'd done a hundred thousand times before. I was no longer paying attention to my corner setup, because I thought I was beyond crashing. Well, I learned the hard way that I wasn't.
I still believe there are only two kinds of riders, but the rest of the cliche has nothing to do with crashing. The two types? Those who practice their craft and those who don't. Since my wreck, every ride has been a learning experience. I catch mistakes in form MUCH earlier, and correct them before they become problems. I practice things like low speed manuevering, straight line braking and corner setup constantly. I've learned to listen to that little voice inside my head (VOICE, not VOICES - big difference), if something doesn't feel right, I'll turn around and head home. There are no guarantees that I'll never crash again (circumstances beyond my control, etc., etc.), but that's a risk I'm willing to take. I'm a much better rider because I applied the lessons learned, and won't allow myself to grow complacent again.
// posted by John Patmos @ 2:08 PM 
Comments:
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also, otorcycle riders have a much tougher time on the roads because car drivers just don't pay as much attention to motorcycles as they do other cars - motorcyclists learn the rules for both cars and motorcycles on the road, but most car drivers have no clue about motorcycle rules.
Darth - right on the money. Many hardcore riders have a stigma against "cages", as they refer to cars. Me? I love cars as much as bikes, but you've got to apply a different mindset to stay safe in each.
I'm a MUCH more aggressive rider than I am a driver. Taking the initiative is critical, because you can't assume that drivers will see or yield to you. What keeps you safe in a car can get you mauled on a bike.
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I'm a MUCH more aggressive rider than I am a driver. Taking the initiative is critical, because you can't assume that drivers will see or yield to you. What keeps you safe in a car can get you mauled on a bike.
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