I got used to riding around on my own and didn’t like depending on my wife 2 carry my fat ass around. I felt like I was putting her out. I knew she didn’t mind and even though it was a hassle, she was happy to help me but still, it was an imposition.
4 long months later, on the 15th of December 2009, 4 months after the accident and 9 months after my birthday, my bike was ready to be picked up. During that time I had not ridden once. I was paralytic with fear. I was terrified. I was fucking scared.
4 long months later, on the 15th of December 2009, 4 months after the accident and 9 months after my birthday, my bike was ready to be picked up. During that time I had not ridden once. I was paralytic with fear. I was terrified. I was fucking scared.
Not only had I not ridden in 4 months but my skills were almost forgotten. My belief was that like most things requiring skill, if you don’t practice your forget. Kate (My wife and part time partner in crime) and I stood in the gravel car park of Action Motorcycles in Parramatta. Trembling as I geared up and the engine warmed.
Action is in a shit of a location. Not only located a stone’s throw from the crash site but at the intersection of 2 main roads. Lot of traffic, lot of noise and a prick to get in and out of. Once you leave the car park there’s only 1 way to go and I didn’t want to go that way.
Once I set off I nervously made the mistake of getting in the wrong god damn lane and couldn’t get over to the right. I missed 3 right turns because I didn’t have the ‘Grumba’ to move over. Finally I found a break in the traffic and turned right. I entered the turn a little hotter than I should have. As I swung into the turn the bike got a good lean to it and as I gassed my way out, it all came back to me.
I yelled into my helmet “ITS ABOUT FUCKING TIME!!!!” I was back in a big bad way. I took as many left and rights as I could before I realized I had no idea where the fuck I ended up. I only stalled the thing twice.
Back tracking I found the main road I was looking for. Peak hour… What a fucking nightmare. Not only was it busy as hell on the roads but it was also 35 degrees out and about 400 fucking degrees in all my gear. I was roasting in my own juices out there.
The ride home was delightfully uneventful. I pulled in with a sense of relief and accomplishment… it was after all my first time out since my accident. The only thing that kept me from riding the rest of the day away is that I could not handle the heat anymore and I was starting to show symptoms of dehydration.
I like your blog. The only real constructive criticism I could give is that you would probably get more views if you included pictures and stopped using chatspeak.
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