You Let Your Mind Out Somewhere Down The Road

Riding home from work on a beautiful spring evening, I didn't mind the detours which took me down the road which wound along the river.  This stretch is one of my favorite local roads, and I was soaking in the dying rays of the sun, and looking forward to being home after a long day. 

This is how a mishap happens on the bike. 

Whoops!  Bang!

I mean, with literally no more warning than that, the bike is on its left side at a four-way-stop, in rush hour traffic.  My left leg is under the bike, and I'm wondering, "What happened!"

Two septuagenarians were walking their pedigreed pekinese, rushed to my aid.  They insisted on helping my right the bike.  I was a bit dazed or I'd have politely refused, there was a greater chance of them being hurt than of me needing their help getting the bike back up.  

I saw that the front wheel had perched upon a very large piece of gravel, which had slid out when I stopped, toppling me and the bike.  

Here's the damage:  Left turn signal dangling and mangled.  Scuffs on the left side frame puck.  A slight bruise on my left calf.  And of course, wounded pride. 

The smoke-colored lens was shattered and the wires pulled loose from the stock left front blinker.

Scratch marks on the frame puck, but not a scratch anywhere else.  The puck did its job. 

The real issue of course was the mindless reveries, the complete absence of situational awareness, that put me in this position.

The bike started back up and I rode it back home.

After I rode the bike home, I gathered my wits and decided that I needed to return to the scene of the crime and study what I did wrong.  I was determined to make this a learning experience. 

 

Here's the scrape the gravel made as it slid across an 8 foot arc.

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Here's the gravel which I ground flat on one side. 

Here's some of the smoke-colored turn signal lens left as debris in the roadway.  

But more important to the lesson are all the things I failed to observe in the 30 seconds prior to the crash:

• I missed the construction side half a block before the intersection, with its earth moving equipment parked along the street. 
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• I missed the sand, clay and gravel strewn out into the street, dragged there by the construction equipment entering and leaving the construction site, and concentrated into the center of the lane by the continuous stream of traffic traversing that debris field. 
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• Why was I riding in the center of the lane?  Had I been riding in one of the wheel tracks, I would've been fine. 

So what happened?

• I wasn't paying attention to road conditions. 
• I was lost in thought. 
• It only took a moment

A road I've never been...

After a very rough year last year, with hardly any saddle time, I'm happy to report that my motorcycle is getting plenty of use this year.

Mostly my saddle time is commute time.  I enjoy riding to work and find it turns a mundane task into an enjoyable one -- in many ways the highlight of my day.

But the same commute on the same route every day -- even on a motorcycle -- can get a little boring.

So I've tried something different this week -- I'm trying to find a different route home every night.

Mine is a suburban commute, and on my way to work I'm focused on arriving on time and safely.  But on my way home, I can take a more relaxed approach.  I can afford to take a wrong turn and backtrack in order to find my way again.

I'm rediscovering routes that I took years ago and had somehow forgotten.  I'm trying to find new passageways that take me through interesting neighborhoods, and along interesting roads.

I'd rather follow a winding road through a tree-lined subdivision than race from stoplight to stoplight on a four-laned major thoroughfare.  I'd rather take River Road than 96th street.

You win some and you lose some.  Tonight I found some new routes, but ended sitting on a four-laned thoroughfare, in 90 degree heat, with road construction and little forward motion.  That's the worst! 

They can't all be winners. 

Tomorrow, I'll choose a different way.

Rear View - a different perspective

I was riding home from work the other day, taking in the sights and sounds of the trip, caught up in the journey, when suddenly I noticed a police car looming up behind me in my rear view mirror.

Terror struck me as I wondered, "How long has he been following me? What could he have seen me do?"

I started thinking about my trip in reverse, from the perspective of a how a traffic cop would have seen it.

"Did he see me roll through that four way stop without putting my feet down? Would he believe me if I said I stopped, if I didn't stop long enough to touch down?"

"What is the speed limit through here, anyway? Would he believe me if I claimed I was in unfamiliar territory and had missed the speed limit sign?"

"Did I break any laws when I passed that left-turning car who ha d stopped in my lane by riding around him on the right? I certainly didn't do anything I haven't seen cagers do every day."

I kept hoping, at every major intersection, that he would turn right or left, but instead he kept following me. Surely if he were going to stop me, he'd have done so by now.

Unable to take the suspense any longer, I finally turned down some side street just for the sake of knowing whether he was truly tailing me or not. I turned right and held my breath, again watching my rear view mirrors. Would he turn onto the street after me, or keep going?

Thankfully, he passed me by and kept going. I breathed a great sigh of relief and continued home.

Road Grace vs. Road Rage

I was riding my bike to work, in morning rush hour traffic, when a car nearly took me out. This is not an uncommon occurrence. In fact, this is a common scenario of the type that a rider simply has to be prepared for.

The driver and I were side by side, heading the same direction. The driver was on my left. She pulled a half a car length ahead of me them began to merge into my lane. Clearly she was unaware I was there. I was riding in her blind spot.

 No problem. I saw this coming. I squeezed the brakes and dropped behind her. This happens at least once a day when I commute, and I don't think anything of it.  I don't get upset, I just accept it and move on.

A moment later she realized her mistake, returned to her lane, and waved an apology. I waved a dismissal . . . No problem.   This happens occasionally.

 Then at the next stop light, the two of up drove up side by side to sit and wait for the green. She rolled down her window. I could see now she was an older lady. She called out to me, "I am SO sorry. I
didn't see you. I just feel terrible."  She was distraught.

It's hard to converse with a full face helmet on.  I've found the older generation especially are intimidated by motorcyclists -- perhaps some ancient stigma associated with bikes from a by-gone era.  We're not all Hell's Angels any more.

I opened my face plate, but the chin bar still obscures my mouth and, I'm sure, makes it harder to hear me.  It makes lip reading impossible.

"Don't worry about it," I replied, cheerfully.  "It's not a problem at all."

She apologized profusely again, and I again reassured her there was no harm done.

The light turned green, and we both continued on our way.

It occurred to me that I had just witnessed, and participated in, an incident of "Road Grace", the opposite of "Road Rage."

How many cagers would be so thoughtful as to apologize for a lane changing indiscretion?

How many motorcyclists would accept the apology if offered?

If you don't ride in the rain, you don't ride.

I know plenty of fair weather riders who won't get on the bike if there is rain in the forecast.

 I take a slightly different approach. If I listened to the weather forecasts there would be plenty of good riding days that I would miss. Instead I trust my eyes. If it's raining at my front door . . . and I'm heading to work . . . I won't ride. Otherwise I will.  I'm not worried about the weather after I arrive at work. I'm not worried about getting wet on the way home, since I can easily change to dry clothes once I get there.

Using this philosophy, I have ridden many more days than my fair weather friends, and usually, despite the forecast, I stay dry.  Most of the time the threatened bad weather either doesn't materialize.  If it does rain, usually it's outside the narrow window in which I will be commuting. Either it's over and done with before I ever leave work, or it waits until I'm home to let loose.

 Some days, however, I get wet.