A Day In The Life of a 10%er

WOW_WOW_WOW what a day! I got up early that morning and just had a feeling it was going to be a special day in the life of a motorcyclist—me. That week I sold my Vulcan and ST1100, so for the ride that day I’d take my KLR. (My new ST1300 would not be ready for pickup till 3pm.) I rode into town and met up with 6 of my scooter trash friends for a wonderful down-south type of breakfast: fried eggs, bacon and pancakes. Now that’s the way to start a ride day. So after breakfast 7 of us rode over to the place where we would meet up with the TWT group (Two Wheel Texans). Now, what I’m about to tell you is a story about a whole bunch of events coming together to make one weird day.

When we arrived at the meet-up, (1st) I saw a Aprilla motorcycle and realized that was the bike of Ryan, a fellow rider who had broken his leg and ankle a few months before. He had hit drillers mud in a corner that had been dropped by one of the many trucks that use our backroads going between drill sites. It sure was good to see Ryan out riding again.

Now there were 11 of us ready to ride—(2nd) as we started to leave the parking lot, one rider ran into another and they both went down softly. Next on the list, (3rd) one of the bikes stopped running, so the rider pulled off the road and put the kickstand down. I stopped to assist, and as I was parking, I watched as one of our big Texas winds blew the bike off its stand, over into a ditch. That’s bike 3 down. He called his wife to hook up the trailer and come get him. We left him and continued the ride. (4th) As we entered a section of tight country roads, the pack got split up at an unmarked turn. I was in the lost group, and since I live by the rule that as long as I’m riding I’m having fun, I was just temporarily displaced. As we rode along, enjoying the great roads we found while trying to find the other group, my cell phone in my helmet rang ( if you haven’t checked these out yet, take a good look at the CARDO Q2 system. It installs into your helmet easily and gives you mp3, intercom for up to ¼ mile, FM radio and voice activated cell phone). Anyway, back to the story—the cell call from the other group led us to a rendezvous.

So, after a great hamburger at Burgundy Pasture Beef, we launched off for the completion of the ride, which would be about 30 miles of backroads. I had positioned myself in about the middle of the pack so as to cruise on to the end. (5th) As we were making a 45 degree left turn on one of Texas great backroads, at a speed of only about 45mph, I asked myself—“why is the rider in front of me locking up his front brake and starting the process of a high side crash?” I watched as the events unfolded in front of me and I asked myself, “do I hit him, the bike or go to the ditch?” (I talk to myself a lot.) The ditch had a nice clean roll to it so I took option three. As I exited the ditch on the other side of the downed rider, I came to a stop, got off my bike, and ran back to see how he was. I reached down and removed his sunglasses so I could see his eyes and asked him how he felt. He said he was OK but hurt all over from the fall. Now you’ve got to understand that I really am a caring person, but my rule is if you’re not bleeding too bad—GET THE CAMERA—and start shooting. After a while the rider was able to get up and we as a team got him and his bike home. It’s rather ironic that at breakfast I was saying to a couple of riders that you should always DRESS TO SLIDE, THEN GO ENJOY THE RIDE......this guy was really happy he was dressed properly.

So in conclusion, I have to say as I did in my last post called 10%, motorcycles just stir my emotions all up and down the spectrum. I must go now and get ready for the next ride. Below you will find the way I feel. LET’S RIDE!

Little General


I LOVE TO RIDE
By Robert E Lee

The feel of the engine between my feet
The wind in my face
The smells of the road and countryside
The sensation of speed as the asphalt glides by
The sight of my fellow riders leaning into the turns
The sense of danger, either perceived or real
The fellowship shared with other riders
The envious look from the mini-van driver as I pull up next to him
The solitude
The responsibility

Motorcycling is a very personal thing; it stirs the soul in a multitude of ways. I have been lucky to have the opportunity to have so many of my emotions stirred by this beast called a bike, a scooter, a motorcycle.

It has exercised the emotions of:
EXCITEMENT—each time I ride off
PHYSICAL PAIN—each time I fall off
MENTAL PAIN—each time I see a rider down (and some never got up again)
FEAR—for that deer or car just barely missed
SOLITUDE—each time I see nothing but highway in front of me
JOY—as we gather around the table to tell our stories
DISAPPOINTMENT—if for some reason the bike doesn’t start