Post by jaxonc2 on Nov 15, 2003 23:36:04 GMT -5
At age thirteen I rode a dirt bike for the first time. My friends were ripping around their track like hell bent for leather and offered me the chance to join them. Mounting a Harley Davidson dirt bike (size unknown), I ripped along with them. After a very fast straightaway, I came upon the first turn. I knew where I wanted to go but lacked the skill to tell my machine. I did a 3-point nose-dive into the thickest, soupiest mud bog conceivable. Mud was up my nose, down my throat, under my eye bones, and everywhere else. A few hours later I was released from the hospital and I vowed never to ride dirt again.
Twenty-nine years and thousands of street miles later I met Esther, a seven-year trail riding veteran. Esther was riding a Honda XR250 but had a Honda XR500 available for me to ride. During walks, I had boasted to her that I believed I could negotiate a bike through various terrains. She was to put my words to the test and thus my story begins.
Dressed in all the ‘high-tech’ safety gear, looking like visitors from some far off place, we mounted our machines. A little nervous, I mounted the 500 and rode the parking lot and dirt road for a few minutes. No sweat – I’m a natural! “Are you ready?” Esther called out to me from her 250. “Sure – let’s go.”
It was an old fire road leading through the wood where we started. I don’t recall leaving the parking lot, right off the bat there was a Kelly hump. Carefully I led the bike down into the dip and then launched myself into airborne status with such power that I missed the trail and flew up onto the embankment. At this point my machine and I disagreed with where we wanted to be. Somehow it let me off on the high side of the slope and end-over-end I tumbled downhill. Fortunately, I found the bike waiting for me where I left it, but unfortunately it was upside down. Cussing and spitting and wrestling with gravity, I righted the machine and commenced to re-start the thing. When total exhaustion from kicking set in, Esther helped and kicked the engine to life. Catching my breath, we were back on the road.
This is great – awesome, hey not hard at all. Trees whizzing by, fresh air, the thumping of my machine – exhilarating. Not far along we came down a slope covered with rock. At the end of it, Esther decided to turn around and go elsewhere. She did just fine, I didn’t. The back end of my bike wanted to slide its rear tire down the hill. Try as I did, I only made matters worse. I already had misgivings about riding such a powerful machine on such alien terrain and now those misgivings were getting stronger. Scared, tired and frustrated I was at a loss – “thank you for the ‘bail-out’ Esther.” At this point, Esther agreed that the 500 might be too much for me and she traded her 250 for the 500. What a difference I felt in the machines. Back on the road, I slowly regained confidence and was whizzing along again.
Suddenly the road ended. I found that Esther had disappeared into the thick of forest on this itty-bitty trail no wider than a toilet bowl. I boldly followed. The road wound around trees in tight little turns, – branches all around me, reaching out to make me fall; I clung to my machine like all life depended on it. My arms ached from the death grip on the handlebars, my breath was faster than the rpms of the bike, my eyes wider than the trail itself – this was insanity in its purest form. An 8th of a mile after entering, I came upon an intersection of trails and my friend was waiting there for me. Shaking from stem to stern I was too preoccupied with regaining stability to enjoy the humor and laughter expressed by Esther. She asked me if I was ‘OK’ and if I needed a break. “Hell yes and Hell yes.” I wanted the toilet bowl that’s wider than the darn trail. Esther was kind and allowed me a healthy break before continuing with what was to be the first of many lessons.
Common sense and shear luck got me through some (what I considered to be) tuff stuff that day. Hill climbs that seemed to never end, trails narrower than thread, rocks, logs, just an incessant onslaught of changing terrain. Trails and fire roads, we rode them both. At some point, Esther decided to let me rest a bit. We were on a logging road and came upon a turn out the size of a K-Mart parking lot full of dried muddy ruts. Tired, sore and out off breath it was a welcome event. What happened next I am embarrassed to tell.
Re-mounting our machines, which were just off the road, Esther told me to take lead. Slowly and carefully applying a little gas and releasing the clutch, I commenced the most spectacular performance of my life. Even though I was right beside the road, somehow I found myself bouncing ALL OVER that darn turn out. Bumps and ruts and bumps and ruts – grrrr. Bronco riding can only be smoother. I felt like a popcorn kernel in a fry pan. After what seemed like ten minutes of bouncing over every square inch of this trap I finally gave the machine plenty of gas, got back on the road and took lead. I wondered why Esther hadn’t followed, but when I looked back she was too busy busting a gut.
Much was learned on that first trail ride; respect for my machine and the need to develop skill. I have a long way to go to keep up with Esther, but I’m staying with it. The adrenalin was so intense it lasted for days, the stories still invoke satisfaction; but I don’t think I’ll ever get to ride that Honda XR500R again.
Twenty-nine years and thousands of street miles later I met Esther, a seven-year trail riding veteran. Esther was riding a Honda XR250 but had a Honda XR500 available for me to ride. During walks, I had boasted to her that I believed I could negotiate a bike through various terrains. She was to put my words to the test and thus my story begins.
Dressed in all the ‘high-tech’ safety gear, looking like visitors from some far off place, we mounted our machines. A little nervous, I mounted the 500 and rode the parking lot and dirt road for a few minutes. No sweat – I’m a natural! “Are you ready?” Esther called out to me from her 250. “Sure – let’s go.”
It was an old fire road leading through the wood where we started. I don’t recall leaving the parking lot, right off the bat there was a Kelly hump. Carefully I led the bike down into the dip and then launched myself into airborne status with such power that I missed the trail and flew up onto the embankment. At this point my machine and I disagreed with where we wanted to be. Somehow it let me off on the high side of the slope and end-over-end I tumbled downhill. Fortunately, I found the bike waiting for me where I left it, but unfortunately it was upside down. Cussing and spitting and wrestling with gravity, I righted the machine and commenced to re-start the thing. When total exhaustion from kicking set in, Esther helped and kicked the engine to life. Catching my breath, we were back on the road.
This is great – awesome, hey not hard at all. Trees whizzing by, fresh air, the thumping of my machine – exhilarating. Not far along we came down a slope covered with rock. At the end of it, Esther decided to turn around and go elsewhere. She did just fine, I didn’t. The back end of my bike wanted to slide its rear tire down the hill. Try as I did, I only made matters worse. I already had misgivings about riding such a powerful machine on such alien terrain and now those misgivings were getting stronger. Scared, tired and frustrated I was at a loss – “thank you for the ‘bail-out’ Esther.” At this point, Esther agreed that the 500 might be too much for me and she traded her 250 for the 500. What a difference I felt in the machines. Back on the road, I slowly regained confidence and was whizzing along again.
Suddenly the road ended. I found that Esther had disappeared into the thick of forest on this itty-bitty trail no wider than a toilet bowl. I boldly followed. The road wound around trees in tight little turns, – branches all around me, reaching out to make me fall; I clung to my machine like all life depended on it. My arms ached from the death grip on the handlebars, my breath was faster than the rpms of the bike, my eyes wider than the trail itself – this was insanity in its purest form. An 8th of a mile after entering, I came upon an intersection of trails and my friend was waiting there for me. Shaking from stem to stern I was too preoccupied with regaining stability to enjoy the humor and laughter expressed by Esther. She asked me if I was ‘OK’ and if I needed a break. “Hell yes and Hell yes.” I wanted the toilet bowl that’s wider than the darn trail. Esther was kind and allowed me a healthy break before continuing with what was to be the first of many lessons.
Common sense and shear luck got me through some (what I considered to be) tuff stuff that day. Hill climbs that seemed to never end, trails narrower than thread, rocks, logs, just an incessant onslaught of changing terrain. Trails and fire roads, we rode them both. At some point, Esther decided to let me rest a bit. We were on a logging road and came upon a turn out the size of a K-Mart parking lot full of dried muddy ruts. Tired, sore and out off breath it was a welcome event. What happened next I am embarrassed to tell.
Re-mounting our machines, which were just off the road, Esther told me to take lead. Slowly and carefully applying a little gas and releasing the clutch, I commenced the most spectacular performance of my life. Even though I was right beside the road, somehow I found myself bouncing ALL OVER that darn turn out. Bumps and ruts and bumps and ruts – grrrr. Bronco riding can only be smoother. I felt like a popcorn kernel in a fry pan. After what seemed like ten minutes of bouncing over every square inch of this trap I finally gave the machine plenty of gas, got back on the road and took lead. I wondered why Esther hadn’t followed, but when I looked back she was too busy busting a gut.
Much was learned on that first trail ride; respect for my machine and the need to develop skill. I have a long way to go to keep up with Esther, but I’m staying with it. The adrenalin was so intense it lasted for days, the stories still invoke satisfaction; but I don’t think I’ll ever get to ride that Honda XR500R again.
stay vertical 
