teerex51 Hey Fencer
I'm glad you didn't get hurt in the process of getting wiser wink.gif rolleyes.gif
Stef
PS: fhaze, I read that article by Jeff Hughes in your sig. Awesome...very thought-inducing.
Thanks for checking out the link. I love that essay, and I read 3 times a year. Start, Middle, and End of the season.
..I am not trying to thread jack here at all, but since this is (fortunately) a "close call" thread instead of something much worse, I invite everyone to read it. Again, and again.
I crashed my Bandit 1200 just off the BRP (276 I think the road is called). I had a bruised ego, and a bent forks. I was chasing some REALLY proficient riders on true sportbikes, gixxer1k and two race prepped ducatis. We were
moving jack, I **** you not. There was a certain feeling I had while in riding with them, I was out of my league and I knew it. They were buttery smooth and effortless. Me? I was giving it away inch by inch, my comfort zone was eroding away, and I was totally conscious of it. Yet I chose to continue the pace. Ultimately a car gave me a scare on a blind, tight, left hander. I gave them a little room, (I was close to the centerline) and the road got thin. I put the front wheel off on the soft shoulder and rode it for a bit. Loose dirt and guardrail with large drop on my right. I tried to goose it back up on the road, but the bars turned to lock and over the bars I went. Thanks to Fieldsheer Highland Suit I came away with nothing more that a sore shoulder and some pad burn on my left elbow.
As I re-read the essay, there is one section that sums up my day so clearly so concisely, that I think we ALL should read this before every ride. Here is the section, but I invite all who haven't read this to click the link in my sig "Degree of Control"
"
We’ve all been there. We instantly know we’re in a new place because it’s suddenly different. Our lines are no longer quite so clean. We’re on the brakes more, and we’re making little mistakes in our timing. And instead of that Zen-like rush through the corners we enjoyed just moments ago—the state of grace that is the prize of this sport—we’re now caught up in the brief slivers of time between corners trying to fix those mistakes. They seem to be coming faster now—both the corners and the mistakes—and there doesn’t seem to be quite enough time to do what we need to do, the errors piling up in an increasingly dissonant heap. Our normally smooth riding is suddenly ragged, with an edgy and anxious quality. Inside our helmets the laughter mutes and then is gone altogether, replaced by a grim determination to stay on pace. We start to mutter little self-reproaches with each newborn error.
Soon enough we’ll blow it. We’ll get into one particular corner too hot—realizations and regret crystallizing in a single hot moment—and from that instant until whatever’s going to happen does, we’re just along for the ride. It will be what it will be. With a touch of luck we’ll come away with nothing more than a nervous laugh and a promise to ourselves not to do that again. That and maybe one more little debt to pay. You know, the one we just made to God—if he would please just get us out of this mess we’d gotten ourselves into just this one last time, promise.
How is the weather out there right now? It's not too bad over in eastern NC but I don't know about the mountains.
