Wild Will
04-09-2006, 03:07 PM
OK, this is a litle different but it's something that I found very interesting. The guy who wrote it is a riding pal here on the North Coast, and is an extremely fast, diligent and accomplished dirt and street rider. He's an officer of the court (lawyer) and is in NO WAY a kook of any kind. The guy he refers to, Ray, is a moto legend around the bay area, and a regular rider on our back road forays, where I'm in mid pack and these guys are out front somewhere. Anyway, it's a perspective that changed the way I think about the danger of what we do/ride, and I have the utmost respect for author
Kim Clark; Kim is somewhere around 62 now:
Coleman Valley Rd. starts at the ocean on Rt. 1, a few miles south of the Russian River. It’s a narrow, twisty, paved cow trail that wanders ten miles inland to the top of a high ridge, then down into the town of Occidental. One section contains a series of large humps where the road quickly rises 8 to 10 feet, then just as quickly falls off the other side. On January 23, 1993, I was on my new Honda XR 650L dual sport thumper, following my buddy Ray who was teaching me how to treat those humps as “wheelie bumps”. At 50 to 60 MPH, you gas it over the top and gently wheelie down the other side. No problem on my light weight mostly dirt-oriented Honda.
Ray forgot to explain that the still spinning front wheel acts as a gyroscope, keeping the bike upright while you’re wheelieing. So, several hours later, I found myself riding home alone in the opposite direction, going over a wheelie bump so high that I got scared as I blindly leaped over the edge of the known world. I tried to control the uncontrollable by grabbing my front brake, although the front tire had already left the ground. That caused the front wheel to stop and the bike to list to starboard. When the locked front tire touched down, it wrenched the handlebars and I instantly slammed my head into the pavement, knocking myself out. For several hours, my only conscious memory is being loaded into the helicopter ambulance and then having my head inserted into a Cat Scan
X-ray machine at the hospital.
My unconscious memory is very vivid. I had no body. I saw nothing except a warm, very bright golden light which was everywhere. I heard warm, cheerful and totally supportive voice saying, “Welcome home, Kim” and “ you had a magnificent life” and “you did really well” and “you must be proud of all the things you accomplished”. Without being told, I knew I was on “the other side”. I felt better and happier than I ever had before. There was zero negativity. No unkindness. Nothing to fear. Nothing to defend against. No need to be careful. Everything I said gave pleasure to9 those voices around me and made them laugh. I couldn’t stop laughing from the pure pleasure of it all. It was wonderful saying anything that came into my mind without having to censor. We were a big, joyful, extended family – just like the family I’d always dreamed of having. I relaxed even more. It was total bliss. Euphoria. Ecstasy. Peace.
The first time I felt any pain was when I woke up in the hospital. I found I had destroyed my new BMW helmet, plus I had broken my collarbone, numerous ribs and both thumbs, punctured a lung and gathered a few more assorted injuries. I was upset because I didn’t understand why I’d elected to leave that place of perfect and total love. Perhaps my children? I do not want my kids to be overly cautious about their lives. I want them to be able to take chances. To change careers or make other changes when they are called for. I wouldn’t want to hinder that attitude just because I blew a wheelie! However, I concluded that returning was not my choice. It just wasn’t my time.
What did I learn? It was my unscariest ride because whatever fear I had of death has vanished forever. Losing that fear liberated a lot of energy which I can now use for living. Of course I’m still scared of getting hurt. I am emotionally stronger and less likely to try to control the uncontrollable. In fact, this experience may have been the most important event of my life.
Kim Clark; Kim is somewhere around 62 now:
Coleman Valley Rd. starts at the ocean on Rt. 1, a few miles south of the Russian River. It’s a narrow, twisty, paved cow trail that wanders ten miles inland to the top of a high ridge, then down into the town of Occidental. One section contains a series of large humps where the road quickly rises 8 to 10 feet, then just as quickly falls off the other side. On January 23, 1993, I was on my new Honda XR 650L dual sport thumper, following my buddy Ray who was teaching me how to treat those humps as “wheelie bumps”. At 50 to 60 MPH, you gas it over the top and gently wheelie down the other side. No problem on my light weight mostly dirt-oriented Honda.
Ray forgot to explain that the still spinning front wheel acts as a gyroscope, keeping the bike upright while you’re wheelieing. So, several hours later, I found myself riding home alone in the opposite direction, going over a wheelie bump so high that I got scared as I blindly leaped over the edge of the known world. I tried to control the uncontrollable by grabbing my front brake, although the front tire had already left the ground. That caused the front wheel to stop and the bike to list to starboard. When the locked front tire touched down, it wrenched the handlebars and I instantly slammed my head into the pavement, knocking myself out. For several hours, my only conscious memory is being loaded into the helicopter ambulance and then having my head inserted into a Cat Scan
X-ray machine at the hospital.
My unconscious memory is very vivid. I had no body. I saw nothing except a warm, very bright golden light which was everywhere. I heard warm, cheerful and totally supportive voice saying, “Welcome home, Kim” and “ you had a magnificent life” and “you did really well” and “you must be proud of all the things you accomplished”. Without being told, I knew I was on “the other side”. I felt better and happier than I ever had before. There was zero negativity. No unkindness. Nothing to fear. Nothing to defend against. No need to be careful. Everything I said gave pleasure to9 those voices around me and made them laugh. I couldn’t stop laughing from the pure pleasure of it all. It was wonderful saying anything that came into my mind without having to censor. We were a big, joyful, extended family – just like the family I’d always dreamed of having. I relaxed even more. It was total bliss. Euphoria. Ecstasy. Peace.
The first time I felt any pain was when I woke up in the hospital. I found I had destroyed my new BMW helmet, plus I had broken my collarbone, numerous ribs and both thumbs, punctured a lung and gathered a few more assorted injuries. I was upset because I didn’t understand why I’d elected to leave that place of perfect and total love. Perhaps my children? I do not want my kids to be overly cautious about their lives. I want them to be able to take chances. To change careers or make other changes when they are called for. I wouldn’t want to hinder that attitude just because I blew a wheelie! However, I concluded that returning was not my choice. It just wasn’t my time.
What did I learn? It was my unscariest ride because whatever fear I had of death has vanished forever. Losing that fear liberated a lot of energy which I can now use for living. Of course I’m still scared of getting hurt. I am emotionally stronger and less likely to try to control the uncontrollable. In fact, this experience may have been the most important event of my life.