The sun's setting and the country road is dark before me. To my left a glorious pink halo paints the clouds as the winter sun waves goodbye for the evening. My lights pick out the dark tarmac rolling over the hills of north Warwickshire and barely brushes the bosky hedgerows. I'm enjoying my ride out, I was frustrated earlier that I had to hang around and do other stuff when all I felt like doing was riding my lovely little motorbike. She's an Italian made 125 and so much fun. For a while I'm behind a couple of lumbering cars, how they annoy me with their slow meandering. But as my bike isn't a pocket rocket I wait behind 'em till they turn off the main road. Free at last to roll as I wish! I open the throttle and enjoy the evening air. Little fields and houses appear to float past me. I'm still while the world turns under my wheels. Getting into the rhythm now; this is why I love bikes. Here comes a right-hander; slide my bum over to the right of the saddle, hang my body out over the corner, head up looking at where I want the bike to go, over she goes, leaning with me, I reach the apex, give it some throttle and I'm out of the corner. I'm grinning, this is why I ride this road it's "technically challenging" as the bike magazines would say. I wouldn't normally ride it this late but I need to get out. Ok, here comes a left, a bit sharper too. I brake down to about thirty, get ready, slide my bum over to the left, enter the corner. Oh shit! There's mud all over the road! Great big lumps of honest Anglo-Saxon mud. Lots of mud. Deadly mud. I know that if I try and stay with this corner that I'm going to slide. I can feel that the tyre’s have lost grip on the slick surface. No choice. I'm running wide onto the other side of the road. Ok. I'm not gonna come off on the mud but what am I going to do about the car coming the other way? Eek! A car! I'm on its side of the road riding straight at it. The old cliché - time stands still - well not still, but my brain goes into overdrive and it seems to slow. Two choices now: Ride into the car and take flight briefly (and painfully) OR lay it over on the bank at the side of the road. No choice there really, I lay it over. Here comes the bank *Frames missing* - *normal service resumes* I’m lying on the bank. Scramble up, get my bike upright and on it’s stand. Ok, front mudguard's broken. Left hand mirrors gone (weird I laid it down on its right hand side?). Engine's running. Frame and forks seems fine. Relief floods me; I think she's ok. Am I? I look down - list: two legs, two arms, one torso, head's in place. Good so far. Does anything hurt? Nope (I suspect that'll change quite soon). Any holes? Blood? Anything seem less attached that it should? Nope. Someone's calling me. "Are you alright?" Oh it's a woman in that car I just hurtled in front of. "Yes I'm fine thank you" I call in my best chirpy Queens English (why do we do that? If I was honest I'd say "No I just crashed you idiot") And of the car goes.
Ye gods I've been lucky, I've just had my first "off" and I'm intact and my bike has only sustained cosmetic damage.
I need a bigger bike...
