Another occasion that came to mind, where a vehicle and stupidity mixed.
During my early teen years I had a friend who was into motorcycles. At one point he got a new bike -- nothing ridiculously powerful, maybe a Yamaha 150. He says, "give it a try." So I hop on, having riden a motorcycle maybe once before and never managing to get it out of first gear. After driving down the block nearly red-lining it in first, I start to get the hang of the clutch and kick-shift (for upshifts, anyway -- didn't think to practice downshifting). Now, we're in a nice quiet residential street, laid out on a grid. Soon I'm into second, then into third. A quick glance at the speedometer says 45 mph, which even my pea brain is telling me might become a problem. See, I'm coming up to a T intersection, so turning is no longer optional. Unfortunately, there's also a car coming. And I never really got around to practicing using the brakes. I'm not sure who got scared worse, me or the driver of the oncoming car. Anyway, I did my best to keep my cool, rode low in to the turn, managed to miss the moving and parked cars, and managed to slow down enough before I wiped out that damage (to me and the bike) was minimal and cosmetic. Course you have to brazen it out -- I got up and dusted myself off as the friend comes running over, "ya man, must be something wrong with the bike."
What brought that to mind was a story in the paper this weekend with a much less happy ending. Someone who maybe wasn't young enough any more to have the guardian angel on full time. |
