There are family legends concerning the first time I tried to learn to ride a motorcycle on my own. Being 23 years old and feeling invincible and being me, I am sure I thought, "there is nothing to it". What is funny is that although that first ride of mine is a legend among some of my family members, and according to legend I wiped out in that alley, I have no recollection of the incident. Did I block it out? Was it too embarrassing? Is it just a figment of someone's imagination? I cannot tell you except to tell you that that is something I would have done for sure.
The "real" first time I tried to ride a motorcycle, I was 34 years old and still thought I was invincible and indestructible. (did I mention I learn things the hard way?) My new husband owned a Kawasaki Vulcan and I loved to ride behind him but longed to ride my own. Since I was a girl, I thought motorcycles were cool and I always thought I could do anything the boys could do (only better), so it just followed my traditional reasoning to assume there was nothing to this riding thing and I could do it just fine.
It was a beautiful summer day and my new husband had purchased a cheap used small motorcycle. I think it was a Honda 350 or something of that size. We did not have a lot of money so this motorcycle was pretty old and not in the best of shape. He was wise enough to assume I would dump it a time or 2 and he didn't want me to practice on his bike. Since it was a beautiful summer day, I wore shorts, sandals and a t-shirt outside for my first riding lesson in the driveway. He admonished me to put on a jacket and jeans, to get covered up in case I wiped out but I fought him on that. What could happen? Finally we compromised and I put on pants, and real shoes (no socks of course). I still had on the t-shirt. My 4 year old daughter was outside watching from the driveway. She was a real momma's girl and I was going to show her how easy this was!
After a few instructions on the parts of a motorcycle, like where the brakes were and how to change gears, I decided I could get aboard and give it some gas. In my mind, I could see myself cruising down our street with the wind in my hair and having a great time. After all, I reasoned, I knew where the brakes were.
There was a slope to the driveway so I mounted the bike at the top of the driveway and started it up with some instruction by my husband. He reminded me where the brakes and throttle were and told me to take it easy. My plan was to kind of coast down the hill of my driveway and gently turn onto our street and drive around the block once. He and my daughter were watching with anticipation of this feat.
Well, I don't remember exactly what happened, but to this day it is my contention that the throttle stuck! (damn old POS) I revved down the driveway, could not figure out how to stop, slow, brake, or much of anything else as I felt the power of the bike keep moving us against my will. I wanted to stop but did not even realize how to get my feet to the ground! The bike and I tipped over and it dragged me down the driveway under it on it's side.. actually on MY right side. I remember coming to a stop after losing skin in the driveway and discovering something pouring out around me while I was under the bike. (although I about half expected I had wet myself, it was, in fact, gasoline- POS!) My husband disentangled me from the bike from the driveway so we could assess the damage.
As you would guess, the bike was lucky that I cushioned it's fall and subsequent slide. I, on the other hand, was a mess! As I was assessing the damage to the side of my body that remained uncovered (remember no socks and short sleeves), I realized that my 4 year old was FREAKING OUT. She was screaming and panicked to see me bloody and laying in the driveway. It was at that point that my adrenaline kicked in and I realized (like all good mother bears) that I had to take care of her before I could take care of myself.
I will not ever forget that walk up the driveway to the back door. I had scooped her up in my left arm, my right arm skinned and bloody. My right ankle was bleeding into my shoe and I hurt so bad that I had goosebumps and a bit of shock going on. I limped up to the back door, carrying her and telling her that I was ok, nevermind the blood.
I never got back on that bike. It remained abandoned in the garage for a few years until my husband finally gave up on me and sold it. I can't remember my first supposed riding incident but I sure remember the second one!
So what is the morale to the story? Please stay covered when you ride unless you like road rash, even in your own driveway. Since then I have actually learned to ride well but have tipped over a few more times while learning. Wear boots and pants or chaps. Cover your arms and hands. Never assume you are just going for a short event-free ride. Your skin depends on it.
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