Wild Motorcycle Tales Here's a great story from joe2wheels. Got your own story? Send it to me. The Dropping of Bikes I like riding motorcycles. I like long distance trips and I like doing these trips alone. Occasionally, I find myself in a situation where I wish I had some company. This is one of those situations. In July 2008, my route this day had taken me through California's Sequoia National Forest. I stopped in a little town to get fuel and look at the map which clearly showed the existence of a road that would take me where I wanted to go. 10 miles outside of town and two miles from the nearest house, that road went up a steep incline, made a sharp turn and came to an abrupt end in the middle of nowhere. It caught me off-guard, and in the process of trying to turn around, I lost control of the bike and over it went. I rolled about 50 feet downhill before I could get to my feet. I was fit to be tied. I grabbed the bike (600+ lb. on a downhill slope) and tried to lift it. Nothing! Nada! Zilch! Zero! I couldn't budge the damn thing. My next desperate act was to grab the cell phone and call my roadside assistance provider. SOB!!! No phone service! I grabbed the bike and tried lifting it again with about the same results as before. About 20-30 minutes had gone by, and I was on the verge of leaving the bike and walking back to the nearest place I could find to use a phone. I was in a pretty high state of anxiety by now and decided to try lifting the bike one more time before giving up. I removed all the gear I was carrying except the left-side saddlebag because the bike was laying on it. I took off everything I could get to in an effort to reduce weight. My third attempt to lift the bike was assisted by a surge of panic induced adrenalin. The bike began to move just enough for me to wedge my right knee under the gas tank. Straining, screaming and cussing, I was slowly making progress. I finally got my right leg far enough under the bike to get some good leverage and up it came. What a fantastic feeling of relief. Other than losing some fluids (the bike, not me), and some road rash (me and the bike), everything else seemed to be in good shape. If you've never dropped your bike, you don't understand the depth of the embarrassment that comes from doing this in the presence of on-lookers. But then, if you've never dropped your bike, you don't ride. The benefit of having someone there to help get things back to the upright position can be a blessing. There will be plenty of time later to plot the elimination of witnesses.
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© 2010 Walter F. Kern. All rights reserved.
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