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Page history last edited by PBworks 14 years, 10 months ago

You Can't Win 'Em All

 

I have ridden dirt bikes all my life. I began as a child, riding the scooter my pops built for me. It was a little 30cc moped that would damned near reach 30mph without the governor. After growing up a little bit, I was upgraded to a 200cc dirt bike then later, a full race-worthy motocross bike (pictured below) by 2000-something. I quickly got into motocross at the local tracks near my grandparents house where I kept my bike. My cousin and his friends were all into motocross too by the time I obtained my bike. I had to do some serious catching up in terms of skill and bike handling. Besides, I was a few years younger and hadn't half the practice they all had. All of us would load up our trucks and head out to the closest track every Saturday morning and proceed to ride our little hearts out all day long. It was a great time for me, hanging out with my older friends and having a blast riding at the tracks.

 

One fateful day, however, I was tempted to tackle the largest jump at the track, Big Bertha. It was one that I had avoided since the first day of riding there. I would previously roll the jump simply out of fear of killing myself. She was a nasty one. Let me give you an idea: she was probably about 40 or 50 feet long, launching your vehicle 30 feet or so in the vertical and ending with a rough landing after five seconds or so of hang time. Now, for whatever reason, I felt it quite necessary to beat this monster of a jump in one day. The only way to learn the jump is to, well, DO the jump. It's that simple.

 

I make a few test runs to find the right gear, take a deep breath, dump the clutch and make a quick prayer. The first time wasn't gentle, but luckily I made it out alive.

The second time was better, but still not very good. I rounded the track so many times, hitting the jump at every opportunity to get some practice in. By the end of the day I was rolling over Bertha like I had been doing it for years. Then it happened. I don't remember anything from the accident because I blacked out after I cased the landing, throwing me over the handle bars into the dirt breaking my collar bone in the process. All I can recall is waking up in the drivers seat of my truck, reaching for the door handle and feeling a sharp pain run up my arm. It's pretty easy to put together what just happened to you at a point like that. I get out of my truck to find my bike with bent handlebars, already loaded in the bed of my truck, and my good friend David walking towards me. He informs me that I had been asleep for a few hours and that I took a hard fall. No s%*t. I try walking around, although I was very dizzy and disoriented. David tells me that when I landed, they all heard me wipe out and rushed over to help. They found me sitting up on the ground staring off into the distance. As the track manager runs over to ask if I am alright, I look him in the eye and fall over on my back.

 

I would eventually be alright. I broke my left collar bone and probably suffered a minor concussion. Good thing I was wearing a helmet!

 

The thing that amazes me about this story is how profound a feeling it was when I turned to see my bike already loaded into the back of my truck and all my things put away. My friends had literally picked me up and placed me in my truck after concluding I would be alright to let me sleep it off. Their concern for me had really touched me. I never had any siblings growing up, so I had always latched onto my close friends. Hanging out with my cousin and his older friends was what I did every weekend for a few years. They had always treated me like crap because I was younger, but they accepted me so I persisted. Seeing all the help they gave to me really proved to me that I could trust my friends and rely on them in a time of need.

 

They did, however, continue to ride after my fall. Just because I fell and broke my collar bone, shouldn't mean they should suffer as well. I can understand that. But I got a little pissed when they made me drive home.

image courtesy of me

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