roll for initiative

About 6 years ago I decided to run a little experiment on myself: I decided to see what it would be like to become a smoker. And then, in an impressive display of self-control and willpower, I would quit.

It would be an experiment of self-discovery and a test of willpower. Thinking about it now, I think I thought it was going to be some sort of feat of mental strength, an ordeal that would lead to a greater appreciation for my mind-over-matter abilities.

Well … what actually happened is that I mindfucked myself into a wee bit of a smoking addiction. I really do think it’s only a wee addiction; I can go days without having a smoke … but often times I choose not to - not to go days without smoking I mean. But I’m guessing that’s what addiction is all about - you think you can do without but you often choose not to. Hmmm … maybe there’s a lil’ bit of self discovery in this experiment after all.

Well, after a few days of being snowed in I finally made my way back to the Suzuki dealership to see what the damage was from my lil’ spill on Yellow Peril (see original post for the play by play).

For those too lazy to read the original post, here’s a quick recap: I was making a turn at 5mph and I hit a patch of sand and my bike slid out from underneath me. No damage to me, minimal damage to the bike.

Or so I thought. The damage estimate is back and if I ignore all the minor scratches and only fix the stuff that needs fixin’ it’s going to run me around $450 for parts and labor. Owza. That’s gonna sting.

Some background is necessary for today’s post:

In April, I took the Motorcycle Safety’s Foundation Basic Rider Course. Highly recommend it for anyone who’s ever thought of giving motorcycles or scooter a try. Took it and LOVED it.

And bought a used 2002 Suzuki SV650.

It’s yellow and it’s purty and it’s f’ing responsive. And I call it “Yellow Peril” … for I am “witty” and “edgy” and don’t have a lot of “social filters”…

Here’s a lovely pic of the lovely Ms. Yellow Peril”

And now onto today’s main event …

I picked up Yellow Peril from the shop today. I had to take it in for its regularly scheduled 7500 mile tune up. Picked it up around 9am and had a lovely dry (yet somewhat cold) ride across the bridge. Everything’s fine and dandy and it’s good to be on the road again.

Left work around 6-ish. It’s dark and cold but it’s still dry, which hasn’t been the case for the last 5 days or so. But I’m happy to be riding again and looking forward to using the carpool lane all the way back home.

I pull out of the parking lot and … lucky me, the light’s green. I accelerate towards the light, roll off the throttle, brake slightly, release, push the handlebars to counter steer and lean into the corner. I start to roll on the throttle and then my bike is spinning out about 10 feet in front of me and I’m sliding on the ground.

W.

T.

F.

I stand up and run after the bike. I think I actually stood up in mid-skid. And let’s hear it for protection! Luckily I was wearing my overpants as my right hip took the brunt of the fall and skid. Anyway, I run after the bike and pick it up. Or rather, try to pick it up. Take two. I employ the patented pick-up-the-bike-you-just-dumped-moron technique I read about in a book someplace … and it worked like a charm.

A little bit of pushing later and the bike and I are by the side of the road. Motorists were nice and didn’t run me over when I went down. Guess that’s what passes for nice - not running you over. Though props for the one guy that stopped and asked if I was okay.

As I examined that bike for damage, I noticed that the road had a slight dusting of … well … dust. I work in some god forsaken corporate park literally by some gravel pits (and by literally I literally mean literally). It’s like someone decided that the best place for some generic corporate office park is was out by Uncle Owen’s and Aunt Beru’s place.

Luckily I was only doing about 10 mph, so I have nothing worse than a small red spot on my right hip where I went down. The bike is okay, too. Only a broken brake lever, a bent brake pedal, and maybe some other slight damage. But shit. That f’ing sucked.

Sure I like to push it a bit, but I’m also a big fan of statistics and a huge fan of the Hurt Report.

Here’s a little tidbit that I’ve known about for a while but now find very amusing: Accident rates for riders with less than 6 months experience is LOWER (but still high) than for riders with 6 months to 1 year of experience.
The reasoning is that between 0 and 6 months you’re too freakin’ scared to really push anything, so you’re well within the safety margin. At 6 months, you start to feel more secure in your abilities and your bike’s and you start to push it. But it’s probably not until after about a year that your skills actually improve to the point where you can push things … thus the higher accident rates between 6 months to 1 year.

Let’s do that math … took MSF class in April … bought the bike in mid-April … been riding since then … April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November … crap. 8 months.

Another 4 months and I would have been in the clear.