Iâve had my motorcycle endorsement since I was 17. The truth is, I really only rode a motorcycle while I was 18-20 and then stopped. I rode a nice purple / black Kawasaki Ninja 250, which dates me a bit, since it has been somewhat discontinued.
But, this blog post isnât about my bike. Instead, rotate your gas intake to âonâ, switch your engine to âonâ, pull in the clutch and turn on the ignition. Iâm going to do my best to recall the numerous times I brushed with death, crippling injury, or a good olâ low side slide out.
The First Day
Yes, on the day I bought my motorcycle, I crashed it. I think itâs ritualistic at this point to do something like this. I had just gotten the bike, was following my friend to âget used to itâ. It was a beautiful day, that kind of day when leaves look greener, the sky a wavy mesh of clouds and blue and warm. That good kind of warm where riding into it at 40 mph felt so comfortable. Anyway, we had gone off the main roads and were in backstreets that I didnât know. Red flag there. A little uncertain, I was following him closer than I should, delivering me a second red flag. On these backstreets, there was a blind corner which hid the car just enough to be too late to brake once you saw it. Oh, there was also potholes.
So, I see my friends car, hit the brakes, hit a pothole and immediately flipped the bike. Well, maybe not, (it has been awhile) but I certainly flipped over the bikeâs handlebars. I reached my hands out and dived into a smooth roll. I didnât even touch my head, which will be important in a moment.
Stopping, my friend gets out and comes to check on me. âDid you hit my helmet?â he asks. Yeah, I was using his helmet. Thinking back, I have no idea why I had not brought my own, but at the time I was a little miffed that that was the priority.
âNo, I didnât hit it, I rolledâ. Looking at my gloves, they were torn up a bit. They were also his.
Picking up my bike, it wouldnât start, thanks to a dead battery. It had been an awhile since it was charged, and youâre not supposed to crash it while the alternator is working.
Not a big deal, we jump started it and away I went, albeit a bit paler.
Moral of the story?
- Go slower in unknown areas.
- Watch out for potholes.
- Practice on flat, wide road first. Going straight with safe turns is easier.
- Buy your own equipment.
Interchange
The day was wet. It had been raining earlier and I had my rain gear on, but it wasnât raining at that time.
I was exiting the freeway onto an interchange to go to another freeway. Now, the speed limit was posted, and I was going higher than that. It was a clear road with a wide turn. Hereâs a few fun facts about motorcycles.
- You lean to turn.
- Generally, once youâve started a turn, you must complete it or speed up. Slowing during a turn is dangerous, especially when wet.
- You must lean further to turn faster.
- Higher speeds mean you have to lean further.
- Wet roads mean you have to lean further.
- You have a limit amount of leaning. Too far and you are sliding on the road.
So, I was going faster, on a wet road, on a curve. In those 5 seconds, I leaned as far as I could, and watched in horror as the grass at the edge of the curve came closer and closer and thenâŚ
Nothing. Curve flattened out and I was fine.
While I didnât crash here, the morale here is, donât be stupid, but also donât be stupid in multiple ways.
- Slower turns when itâs wet.
- Slower turns closer to posted speed limits.
Uphill Curves
This road was amazing. Lots of trees, gentle curves, low traffic and low speed. A real scenic routes. When these roads say 25 mph, that in almost all cases means âgo 45 mphâ.
I know. This isnât a post about how cool it was that I was being reckless, rather a cautionary tale. But 45 mph it was. At least until I reached an uphill curve where you lean into the hill. There I was, leaning into the curve and all of a sudden I was just propped up on my hands and knees on the road. I didnât even slide or anything, I just⌠stopped. My watch blew up, my gloves thankfully took most of the damage and my pants tore.
Thank goodness I wasnât being followed at the moment because it was a prime opportunity to get run over.
Lessons:
- Go slower
- Go even slower on uphill curves. If it says 25 mph, you should go that fast.
Jumping a Curb
I was late. It was dark, raining, and I had missed my bus. Late for my minimum wage paid job. If I took the next one, Iâd be probably 30 minutes late to start. So, instead of taking public transportation, I decided to wing it to get into the city, in a panic and a rush. So naturally I was also speeding. There was no traffic, allowing me to get around 60 mph in what should be 45 mph, and because I was a motorcycle, I was granted access to the HOV / Carpool lane. In this case, on the right side.
Moving right along, making up for lost time, I kept watch of the signs. Only HOV, Only HOV. Only HOV and Right Turn only. No problem. Except a few moments later, the road disappeared and all I saw in front of me was a curb, a rigid metal mailbox, and a sturdy, tall, metal pole.
Overdriving your headlights. Itâs one of those terms used in drivers ed. The summation of it is this
Overdriving your headlights is a situation where your stopping distance is longer then the distance of your headlights.
So, if you can see 100 ft ahead of you, and it takes 120 ft to stop, well you have about a negative amount of time to respond to a situation.
Deter aside, letâs get back into it. I had overdriven my headlights. I realized that. In that split second, it also occurred to me that the hard metal objects were also preventing absolutely any chance of a softer crash. You know, death. I hadnât just overdriven my headlights faster than I could stop. I had overdriven them beyond reacting at all. I could barely recognize my own fright before I reacted. I leaned left, hard. Not like it mattered much when youâre given one second.
My eyes shut, I felt a sensation of floating. Then just like that, I was on the road. I opened my eyes. I was in the center lane, dead center. No correction needed. Looking at my mirror, there was one car turning left. I was alone on the road.
I was fine.
To this day, I have no idea how that happened. Divine intervention? I rolled a 20? Absolutely wild Hail Mary pass that worked perfectly? I will say this though, it wasnât skill. I should have died and justifiably so.
Remarkably, I hadnât learned my lesson yet. I kept driving.
If youâre looking for a moral, itâs the same as the rest. Drive slower. Also donât overdrive your headlights.
Also, if youâre 30 minutes late for work, itâs ok in the grand scheme of things.
Round-a-bout
One more. Last one I had before a spike went into my tire and I left them. I was in a local area. A place Iâd walked a hundred times, bicycled an equal amount and I could do it almost blind.
As I went around the round-a-bout, I realized I had entered too fast. My lean wasnât going to make it. I tried to slow down during the curve, which is dangerous! But no matter. I hit the curb at a nice 25 mph, flipping over the handlebars, out in a dive with my arms outstretched. I landed, lost my balance and rolled back, smashing the back of my head onto the concrete curb.
Or, I would have, if I wasnât wearing my helmet. Instead, it was more of a medium âthunkâ. I got up, moved my motorcycle off the road and just sat there. Sat and sat under a security car showed up and asked if anything was wrong. I said no, and eventually pulled off.
Conclusion
I never really did learn my lesson, not immediately anyway. Youâll also notice in these âlessonsâ I learned I kept repeating mistakes. I always drove too fast, hit curves too quickly. The real reason I stopped riding was because of a spike into the tire that I got on a winter âkeep your bike healthyâ ride. A short ride, about 10 minutes. Instead, a lot of the introspection I gained was in the years that followed, reflecting on these incidents.
Remarkably, the only lasting injury I had was some tightness in my wrist from the round-a-bout crash. Iâve also kept quiet about most of these incidents in my life. I felt by describing them I would be bragging that I was so impressive to have survived these incidents. That felt wrong, and so I pushed it to the back of my mind. Guilty about that feeling, about surviving multiple near death incidents.
I wasnât impressive by surviving, nor by putting myself in such dangerous situations. I was reckless and impulsive. I was never one of those riders that was aggressive around other drivers. I tried not to be anyway. I wouldnât dangerously speed past you, pull a wheelie or things like that. I would see a clean, empty stretch of road and then go for it. Still, thatâs not an excuse. I have since decided to no longer ride. If I feel the urge again, Iâll probably look at this post and I hope it will compel me to reconsider. Perhaps it will do the same for you too. Which is why Iâm writing it now.
Nowadays, I donât ride. I do ride bicycles, which I encourage and will probably write about here. It carries much of the enjoyment of motorcycles.
In any case, if you ride, or are considering riding, this isnât a post against riding motorcycles. I remain in my position that riding motorcycles has been one of the greatest experiences of my life. Should I find something comparable to it, Iâll use it to describe what riding a motorcycle feels like.
But it is a post of caution, a call to measure the risk and benefit. Motorcycles put you in a situation that rewards aggressive behavior. This encourages you to be impulsive and dangerous. The odds you will become irrevocably injured or killed are played out every time. Yes, this includes you, the careful rider. You must actively ride in a careful way to be a safe rider, where the default is to be risky.
Good luck, be careful, and if you ride, give fellow riders a wave for me.