Skating past the devil

[Wild Will]

Sometimes life sneaks up on you, like a BB in a bagel dog, breaking the incisor of your fragile existence, and leaving you with nothing to shoot at. Recently, on a tight, steep local back road – a narrow snake of an undulating, blind corner-festooned, poorly paved, badly cambered piece of asphalt with the highest fun factor of any local road I know, I approached the WW II Bailey bridge that crosses the Gualala River 75 feet below on an ancient perforated steel roadway. Below, I could see 85 year old willing bachelor Harold Richardson’s cows lounging in the emerald water. The road climbs fast as you ride up the ridge and the corners are completely blind. I’ve made it a habit to keep to my side of the road (too narrow to warrant a painted line) through years of personal application of the 'inner law of collision avoidance'. That and the unbridled fear of a bloody death.
As I rounded a curve with nowhere to go on the left, and a sheer drop on a hillside of threatening oak branches on the right, there she was; a local farm girl, Camel twixt her bruised lips, empties rolling around in the bed of the 1 ton dually Dodge pickup, taking up half my lane. In a car, I’d have been Dodgemeat. I barely skipped by without sanding my mirror, and the look in here eyes was fear and indignation. This was HER road! The lane was just wide enough for her truck. Damn! She bit the end off her mouth torch,
and I skated past, mouth breathing again, safe because of my narrow bike and the luck of the draw. I was pumping adrenaline for a mile, pulled over and was lost in thought for awhile. What could I have done? Avoid this road? Stop riding? Take up bocce? I think not. The point is, it’s a dangerous ride out there in the sticks, a long way from any rescue vehicles.
Kemosabe, stay alert, I tell myself again. Ride the back roads a little bit slower. I’ve pleaded with myself over this issue before.
Expect the cretins will crowd your lane as they unsteadily ply the twelve foot wide country lanes in a dually Dodge that’s 7 feet wide. That leaves me 5 feet, except she was over a foot into “my (imaginary) lane” so the already wide GS with big jugs and wide Pro Tapers to the tune of three feet had a 12” margin for error. Like I said, it’s the luck of the draw. This time I was victorious. I got to ride home. Whew! Charging the corners doesn’t help here. A bike near the centerline on that fateful curve would have been an expensive wad of Teutonic alloy, plastic, rubber and fluids. And I, in my 500 denier ‘Stich 1 piece with the nice ½” foam armor here and there would have been quite uncomfortable for awhile, at least.
A lot of our local backroads are nothing more than long ago bulldozed steep ridge trails used by the local natives and settlers on horseback. I love these roads! Some were widened for a wagon where possible. These paths have evolved into rigorously driven country lanes with SUV’s. full sized pickups, farm tractors, vineyard machinery and Harold’s cows. Hit a cow and Harold will own your IOU for a thousand bucks. No excuses.
Luck of the draw, roll of the dice, whatever. The skilled application of a modern-suspended gyro machine on these kind of roads just can’t be beat! Know what I mean?

[BobFV1]

Wild Will -

Your story captures the most essential element of these little epiphanies so well - it all happens so quickly - in the blink of an eye either your life is over or you are thinking about the next problem or issue down the road.

Ain't life grand?

Thanks for sharing your story. Ride safe.

Sorry, no chain guards lying around.....

[Bones]

Great writing, thanks.

1. You made it through because you are
a. skilled
b. on a GS
c. Karma

2. You could have also avoided crashing if
a. you stayed home
b. had lingered in the garage for another 5 minutes before riding
c. been on a Harley, thus going 20 mph slower in turns


See, maybe you should get that Harley after all?


Thanks for the post.

Jeff

[DarthRider]

Will -

Of all my favorite lessons from brother Reg Pridmore's great CLASS riding school, my "mostest favorite" was his insistence that we learn to "see around corners".

Unfortunately this can not be taught, it can only be learned, and the lesson is never complete. It is learned, as you know so well, by meeting Camel Girl where she shouldn't be. By meeting Harold's cows where cows don't go. By short-sliding in that diesel spill on the freeway on-ramp. By that little Blue-Hair in the big Buick pulling out in front of you.

By having friends, some now dead, who have skated squarely into the Devil's eager trap. And learning from their costly errors and misfortunes.

By thinking about it, nearly, but not quite to the point of obsession, but a lot, and always. Looking for clues, listening, anticipating.
By "imaging" all those things and a thousand more and what we can do to avoid them, to be ready for them. To survive should we not be able to avoid. To always be one step ahead of your situational awareness. To never allow yourself to be surprised, except in the pleasant, delightful ways.

6th Sense, Spidey Sense, Common Sense...Learning to See Around Corners.
Doesn't matter what you call it, it's just "there" or it's not.

And when it is...it makes riding not only safer obviously, but more fun, more rewarding, more "right". A keen game of "Me vs The World" and losing is not an option.

Another great offset for the effects of time & age on vision, reflexes, timing, coordination. Applied experience.

Glad you dodged that bullet Wild Will.

Dave

[Jomarti]

Dave, you touched on something that's saved my butt on at least a couple of occasions- acting on the feeling that something's not right just over that ridge, or "I better put more distance between me and the tail end of that truck because he's getting ready to stop NOW".
Both times I slowed and/or put some light braking on only to find within the next few seconds that premonition, for lack of a better word, saved my bacon. Both these events happened to me in early riding years when maybe dumb luck was what kept me out of trouble but now 20+ years later they still serve as lessons to "stay tuned" to what might be over the crest of the hill or around that blind corner.
I used to think the safest riding was the kind we usually do, out in the countryside away from city traffic where we can "ride the pace" and enjoy ourselves. On the contrary, we're dodged chasing farm dogs, ducked buzzards rising from roadkill, skated through sandy, gravelled corners, and dodged farm trucks taking up part of our lane so I guess country riding has it's risks. The point is developing that "sixth sense" if you want to call it that has served to save our collective hides more than once.

[DarthRider]

You got it John!
You have to watch for those Rattlesnakes in the road too...at least that's what I hear...

Dave