Ah! My Hip!
I know how to drive a manual transmission car, why was this different? You can’t just brake, you have to apply the clutch too. That must have been why I didn’t stop the way I expected to the first time. But no matter what, I wasn’t risking using that throttle. So I tried again, easing back on the clutch until I was traveling fast enough to stabilize my balance and pull my feet up to the pegs. In less than twenty seconds the ride was over and I pulled tightly on both clutch and brake as I drifted casually to a stop in front of FT’s driveway where I gladly killed the engine and stepped off the bike, feeling a new wave of pain hit as I stepped down on my right foot.
Of course at that point I was finished and I deflected HB and FT’s efforts to get me back on the bike for a more triumphant second attempt. Eventually they realized I wasn’t going to give in and they changed their tune, handing me congratulations for getting back on and riding back after the fall, which didn’t feel like such an accomplishment—more of a brain-rattled snap decision, but I sincerely appreciated the sentiment regardless.
We went our separate ways shortly after that, my hip growing more painful the longer I stood or walked and the stinging in my hand and arm building to an uncomfortable whine in my head. I apologized profusely to FT for wrecking his bike, which it turned out was not much worse for wear aside from the originally noted turn signal and mirror (which HB was quick to point out he could fix quickly and with parts he already had lying around his garage). I tried to offer to pay for or do whatever I could but FT seemed more interested in having me try to ride again than whatever might be wrong with his bike. Somehow it made me feel worse, him being so understanding about it.
So that was my first experience with a motorcycle: A real motorcycle. It took me less than 90 seconds to lay it down and mess myself up fairly significantly. I woke up the next morning with my back hurting, possibly from trying to compensate for the pain in my hip, possibly a latecomer to the pain parade the fall started. Either way it’s been a fairly uncomfortable weekend, but I’ll survive.
As for me becoming a biker… I don’t really see that happening. I don’t think the experience gave me some unnatural phobia of motorcycles, but I know two things to be true: One is that I don’t like big, heavy bikes. If I ever try riding a motorcycle again, it will be with something more my size and speed (by that I mean small and slow). The other is that when it comes to single-person vessels, I much prefer jetskis.
They hurt less.
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