Our Mortality (part one)

[beyond]

Some may think that at times I am a little too philosphical.
But then again, we have a forum and it's here we can share our
delights, our sadness, our thoughts and yes, sometimes we may
be laughed at, but more often than not, the response is one
of a kindred spirit. It's because we all share in part, very
similar experiences and thoughts and most of us go down the
same road.

I think over my life in regard to my motorcycling experiences
from way back when I was young and what may or may not be remembered
when I leave this earth. May it be a long time distant and may
many more kilometres of road pass beneath my wheels and so be
it for all who gather here.

I choose to share my experiences to teach, to impart and
to remind us of our own mortality. I trust that those who read this
will learn, laugh and know they are not alone when they see the dumb
things I have done. This is part one and if you enjoy this read,
just look for the following parts. I will cover my more dangerous moments
but please be assured that there were long perios of time without
mishap too.

I have to date covered in excess of over 150,000kms on motorbikes.
For 27 years I did not own one, so those k's are over a short period
of years. My current bike, a GSX1400 is the second GSX1400 I have
owned after getting back into motorcycling three months short of
nearly two years now. On these two bikes I have knocked up 37,000kms.

My first bike that I wanted was a Honda SL125 as a friend of my
mate had one. Then I spotted a Suzuki T250 Hustler 1972 and just
had to have one of those.

At the age of 14 I rode my first bike, a kawasaki 185 farm bike.
Give her some throttle and let out the clutch, I was advised.
A few seconds later the tennis court was gouged out after I scooted
across it on the rear wheel trying frantically to keep the front down
and opening the throttle more trying not to slide off the seat.

There were many farm bikes after that, visitations with electric fences,
barbed wire Taranaki gates, ditches etc. But a lot was learnt about how
bikes handle and what not to do. My quest for power and speed had
now set me on the path of the joys of motorcycling.

Then my first ride on the road. A friend kindly lent me his Honda CB100
which I duly took through a tight bend with the throttle pinned. The joy,
the speed and then OOHHH shit, the nice patch of gravel left from
someones trailer right on the apex and in my line. The slow motion effect
as the sky appears under your feet, the thump as your muscles and bones hit
the side of the ditch and then blackness. Birds twittering is the first
thing you hear as your eyes slowly focus on the power pole not more than
a foot away, which you just happened to miss.

Life is good as you walk away from that one with a broken wrist and
a throbbing head.

Your first job, the pay comes in and before long you have enough to buy
a Suzuki T250 Hustler. Sure it's second hand with 20,000 miles on her
but it's the culmination of hard work and the start of your dream.
I scrape up enough to buy an old Daytona Car racing helmet, some bike
boots and a plastic Line Seven Jacket. Some protection eh?

Seven months and 25,000 miles later, my mates can no longer catch me
in the twisties, the pegs are wearing away and I've had countless
close calls, but I'm 18 and invincible.

Friday night and the girlfriends with friends waiting for me in
Maraetai, to join them for the weekend. I race home from work
in Auckland, lane splitting all the way. I'm excited. Some
of my favourite roads and my girlfriend waiting for me. Get home,
change, it's summer and 5.30pm and here I come.

Clevedon Road, Papakura, feels the T250 passing over it at 110kmh.
I'm about to head up Kerry Hill but a line of 3 cars is in front.
No cars coming, no ones indicating or doing anything dodgy so I pin
the throttle for a good burst up the hill to clear the 50kmh area
into the 100kmh zone for some good fun. I'm alongside the tart in
the Morris Marina, who decides Dominion Road is where she is going
and without indicating, turns right in front of me.

Oh joy, that slow motion thing again. T250 Hustlers and Morris Marina's
don't mix well at 110 or more kilometres an hour. There's this hollow thud,
which sounds very loud, there's the sky under your feet again, then your
shoulder smashes into the bonnet; you bounce into the air and begin a seemingly
slow descent; then smash into the road, roll some distance and before passing
out, roll again to avoid being run over by that silly tart in the Marina.

You are aware of people shouting. Your eyes make out shapes and shadows.
An old geezer is staring at you through the visor. You hear the words:
"the stupid bastard is still alive." The meat wagon takes you to the
hospital, where your Friday night is right royally screwed. Eventually
my girlfriend turns up with her friends and takes you with them.
Once again, life is good as you head away with a badly twisted ankle
and numerous painful bruises, but bikeless for a month.

You can't afford new gear, so the helmet does another round, as does
the jacket abd boots. The parts are ordered and you slowly rebuild
your uninsured bike and pay for the tarts Marina, because you broke
her wheel off the axle, wrecked her door, plliar, bonnet and window.
It's always the bikies fault of course and you learn that one very early
on. New forks, new tank, new dials, new this and that and a month later
you are on the road again, till next time......



See Part 2. http://www.kiwibiker.co.nz/forums/sh...ad.php?t=39809

[gijoe1313]

Crikey! This is a good read! Can feel the old adrenaline pounding when I'm reading this! You writing an online memoir? Very useful info here to encourage thoughts about our own riding!

[yungatart]

You have a talent for writing, that's for sure!
That silly tart in the Marina now drives a Lexus in HB - she did the same thing to me on Tuesday!
Look forward to the next instalment.

[MSTRS:Me]

You have a talent for writing, that's for sure!
That silly tart in the Marina now drives a Lexus in HB - she did the same thing to me on Tuesday!
Look forward to the next instalment.

Perhaps she does...but she's also been breeding like rabbits
Excellent read, Beyond.

[90s]

Philopsophise away. Hope this is the first installment (although this would imply I hope you have had a lot of pain ... )

Hmmm, what an odd experience it is to wonder what happened and still hear clearly the squel of rubber and the thump of twisting metal and the thump of YOU hitting the road. When I was 18 slid small bikes a number of times and had the "sky beneath the feet" (very poetic). Still, we did used to do sychronised moped ballet in the wet at school (3+ bikes, lovely 180 deg slides).

I remember after my one big car smash (related elsewhere here) standing in a phone box in a restaurant looking at the phone. I had an idea I should call someone to tell them I was OK. But I did not know who or how to use the phone. I stood there 10 mins looking at the phone before the ambulance came to take me away (watched by a large crowd of people, who I did not notice. A friend who was a nurse had been in the rest. and said it was better to leave me be as medics very close by). My crash helmet was on (but cracked in half), my trousers shredded and I was standing in a pool of my own blood. I felt no pain at all (that changed a few days later ... esp as the bike was totalled). I had been to hockey practice and had the kevlar stick slung over my back. I think that it acted as a back protector as I back-slid and saved me from much more seriouos injury.

A very odd experience.

[McJim]

A damn good read for those of us that have come to motorbikes late in life. When I was young and daft I had two wheels but no engine - didn't even bother to get a cage drivers licence until I was 30.

[Street Gerbil]

didn't even bother to get a cage drivers licence until I was 30.

Got mine at 24 and christened my first car two days later. (I ran the stop sign completely buried in a foliage. The cop had to do some extensive pruning to prove my wrongdoing.)
Good read, mate, not that I have any illusions (I know that in my full combat gear I am about as invincible as a hamster on the floor of a ballroom full of dancing elephants).