A Sportbike Blog by Dylan Weiss
For the first time in ages I woke to sunny skies and a free day. With the flick of a switch, the coffee pot stirs. My eyes open up. I see so much more then just light. Quickly the pot percolates with fresh, dark, liquid freedom and a sip later it isn’t simply a cup of awakening but rather a cauldron of possibility that’s brewing. Twelve cups of warm virtue that smells and tastes of escapism.
Moments later I feel a twinge of freedom, a sense that after months of hard work, deadlines and stress, today I can finally unwind. Finally I can let go. Nothing looms over head. Nothing has to happen immediately. There is no sense of urgency nor dread. No obligation to attend to. No cloudy mental facility born from lots of late nights and far to early mornings. Instead there is simply nothing at all. The calendar is finally clean…
And ultimately perhaps that was the problem.
Forty-five minutes later I’m taking a mellow stroll down a quaint if not quiet canyon road while basking in that uniquely Ducati inspired sense of time and place and purpose. From the road, to the ride, to the sense of life that surrounds it, I feel certain that I’m destined to be here. To live life in this particular moment. When the world finally feels like it’s turning true once again.
Every vista seems fresh. Every corner is controllable. After months apart, the bike and I are back, and we’re at peace. Together. It is baptism by motor-oil.
A couple of corners later I’m overcome with the idea that this year, this riding season, life will finally return to normal. I can crawl out of the edit suite and slide into the riding gear with regularity.
Everything seems possible.
But then.. Then it all goes wrong – Because today is my day of reckoning — Today is the day that I finally had my first ‘get off’…
It was neither a brilliant nor courageous fall but rather simply another part of the motorcycle experience to behold. Coming out of a shadow covered right-left-right chicane I lost the front end of the bike on a pile of sand that I didn’t see coming.
A second later I hit the deck.
While sliding across the concrete, the thought occurs to me that this is odd. This doesn’t seem right, but I don’t know why. And before I know it the event is over. It literally happened just that fast. I’m not even sure my heart had a chance to race. There was no sense of wobble, no tippy sensation, no moment of concern, not even a fight or flight response.
It just happened. As if time had entered a heightened reality and moved in five-second chunks instead of a second by second bliss.
On some level I suppose that today was a rather inevitable conclusion. To ride is to risk after all. Especially if you ride enough bikes on enough roads to temp the statistical Gøds. Numbers never lie. Something like this is bound to happen. To all of us. Because let’s face it, every time as riders we fire up a bike we roll the dice. We tempt fate. We test our luck. And regardless of whether we’re out for twenty-five minutes or five and half hours, the moment we come home safely some part of us always smiles because we know that on this given day we made it through the gauntlet.
Tonight, for me, that’s not exactly true.
The 999 is busted up pretty well – though it certainly could have been much, much worse and I’m quite aware of that little tidbit – but I’m ok and in the end that’s the important part. While I love the bike, it is just a machine after all.
Since the accident I find myself combating a multitude of emotions, which range from the obvious to the bizarre. There’s a definite, if not strange, sense of ‘being alright’ with things, which frankly I’ll admit seems almost contradictory or at least slightly insane. In the past whenever the idea of crashing snuck into my head it seemed like the worst thing imaginable. Yet that’s not exactly how it feels tonight. Rather instead I find myself bouncing back and forth between thinking I’m extremely blessed (slow speed crash, no on coming traffic, minimal force of impact, etc.) versus feeling an odd sense of pleasure in finally feeling that last one remaining unknown when it comes to riding. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that I want to go out tomorrow and crash another bike, but on some level I’ve always been curious what exactly crashing a road bike felt like. Up until today I never experienced it firsthand and as a general rule I tend to like to know what things feel like or at least minimally whether I should be afraid of them or not. While it’s certainly not a fun experience to lay your bike down, I’ve got to say that it happened so fast that there wasn’t any time to be afraid of it. It’s just life. It moves on. Almost uncontrollably.
Certainly I’m pissed about laying the bike down and truly not looking forward to the repair bill, yet I feel an odd sense of ‘being ok’ with things. To some I’m sure that seems irresponsible or immature. As in any fuck-up situation someone, somewhere, always will assign blame, however tonight I find myself thinking that I’m not sure that entirely applies here. After all I was riding well within or below the speed limit, I was focused on the road and the ride, I was not thinking about other things or looking at a picturesque vista or pondering some trivial bit of this or that, but rather I was just out there riding and enjoying the moment. Living life.
Thankfully the Alpinestars gear did exactly what it was suppose to do, I touched down in all the hard places but nowhere else and other than a small case of road rash on my forearm everything feels alright. I suspect that in the morning I’ll feel a bit sorer. Looking at my jacket it’s pretty clear that I touched down directly on my right shoulder, so I expect some pain there. But the shoulder certainly works. It ain’t broke that’s for sure.
Out of all the words in the dictionary the one that keeps popping to mind is ‘lucky’ – but it doesn’t feel like I was lucky, rather I find myself thinking that if your number has to come up and you’re destined to have a ‘get off’, then a twenty to thirty mile an hour tumble on a deserted road is about as good as it can go. Certainly luck doesn’t play a part in wearing the right gear – I was a big believer in that before, but certainly my attitude on that front is even more crystallized now. This would have undoubtedly been a much, much worse hospital level visit had I been riding around like a dumbass in a t-shirt and shorts. But I wasn’t and instead I walked away.
Already a few folks have asked whether or not I’ll keep riding – this baffles me completely, though I suspect that had this happened when I was a young pup of a rider then perhaps I’d feel differently but instead I find myself thinking this was just one of those days. It happens. To all of us. You live through it, you learn from it, and you move on. Because what’s the alternative? To spend your days and nights living in fear of what could happen? To insulate yourself from life instead of being part of it? To utterly fear the things that give you the most joy in life? That doesn’t sound particularly appealing.
I suppose the egotistical side (if that’s even the right word) keeps wishing that if I had to have a ‘get off’ it happened somewhere sexier than a deserted country road. Not much of a bar story there. Definitely not on par with telling your mates that you ‘binned the bike in turn nine at Willow at a buck-twenty’. But then tomorrow morning I get to go the gym as opposed to shitting in a bed pan. So perhaps it all evens out in the end.
Perhaps the greatest disappointment I find myself feeling tonight is a certainly level of guilt at messing up my favorite bike – a machine that meant quite a bit to me over the years. My favorite Pierre Terblanche creation. But again it’s just a machine, it’s not a child or sibling or a family pet. It’s fixable. And in that respect, life goes on.
Ultimately at this point I’m not entirely sure what the moral of the story is, but I do know that tomorrow morning the sun will rise and not only will I’ll be there to see it, but it’ll be a perfect day to go for a ride.. And right now that sounds pretty good.
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Sorry about the get off. Glad you came out of it as well as you did.
Sorry to hear of it man. Really glad you and the bike are relatively alright. Winter riding here can be pretty sketchy.
I too had my first get-off about 6 weeks ago, a fairly slow speed lowside at Buttonwillow, luckily not on my Duc. And then, 3 weeks later, on a well-known SoCal road, I went down again this time on the Duc, again a minor one. After seven years of riding, two crashes in 3 weeks. Sheesh. Neither of these put scratches on my helmet either!
And, I too had the same feeling of relief that you describe. It’s like, you know every day that at some point it’s going to happen. And so when it finally does happen, and it’s fairly benign, you feel relief. Because you know when it happens, it could be really bad, and it seems as though after it finally does happen, your chances of it happening again soon go way down (flawed logic of course as I am living proof hehe!).
Anyway man, get yourself and the bike healthy again and hit those roads again with a newly-rekindled respect for traction and the lack thereof. I know I have.
Sorry to hear about your drop and glad you are ok and got your crash quota out of your system.
Like you said “tomorrow morning I get to go the gym as opposed to shitting in a bed pan”. That’s the attitude
Cheers.
Hey Dylan,
glad you´re alright. Somehow your feelings don´t surprise me at all, because I felt the same. Though my get-off was on a race track, which I consider a more safe environment for these kind of things.
About repairing the bike or make it a track bike, do you actually have the time to make it to the track 3-4 times a year so that the transformation wouldn´t be a waste of money and machinery?
If you have the time, go for it. You wouldn´t need much, just some ebay track fairings and maybe a race fairing stay.
You should check out the clutch and see if that´s ok. Seems like the bolts scarved up the inside of the clutch cover. Check if they´re bent.
I wouldn´t replace everything with new OEM parts. There´s so many 999´s to be parted out at the moment, ebay and forums (Speedzilla and Ducati.ms) are your friends.
Good luck with everything!
Dylan,
Sorry to hear about your crash but at least you’re ok. Don’t feel bad at all about not having a more spectacular story to tell. Trust me, it’s overrated. My “spectacular crash story” happened last May, courtesy of a lane-drifting pickup truck in the mountains, and resulted in a week in the hospital and 3 surgeries on my left knee. I’d rather it had been boring.
I just wanted to say that I was glad you’re alright. Keep us updated as the repairs go on, and take care!
Noel
Dylan, Sorry to hear about your misfortune but I feel the need to respond to one of your comments. You state in your article, “Four bikes (2 sportbikes, 2 sport-tourers) and two pick-ups passed me on the side of the road without stopping before two extremely generous Harley riders pulled over and helped me get back into town. Go figure.” Seems to me to be a bit flipant to the only folks willing to help. “Go figure”? How about a little humility and respect. Harley riders are some of the friendliest and most helpful people on the road. One of the creedos is never leave another rider on the side of the road. Speaking as a Harley rider, go figure, right? who also enjoys sportbikes and whose next bike will be most likely a dual sport or standard and not another Harley I wish people like you would stop the bigotry and bias and join in the concept that 2 or 3 wheels on the ground makes us all brothers. “Can we just all get along?”
@ David Joyner:
Fair point David — Wasn’t trying to be flippant or disrespectful to the Harley owners out there, rather I was simply surprised that several sportbike brethren ignored an obvious accident situation… The two Harley riders who stopped to help and eventually gave me a lift into town were two of the most gracious folks I’ve ever meet on the road and certainly went out of their way to help me out.
Dylan
Bummer, man– but it’s awesome that you’re ok.
Your 999 will be as good as gold before you know it, and hopefully we’ll get to ride together one of these days.
-Basem
Hey Dylan,
Sorry to hear about the bike and the shunt, but it is a great thing that you are alright in the end, and that you are OK with it happening and that that your riding has not suffered because of it. I had a huge get-off involving some runaway horses (!) and a good deal of unconscious pavement surfing and all of that. Never a good time, and always a difficult story talk about and to explain to people (”You hit a horse” - “Well, we kinda ran into each other” - “IS the horse OK? etc.). Good thing that you are ok, and that the bike is mend-able. Continue to keep us posted of the rides and repairs, and the good time. Ride safe.
Cheers.
-Drew
Dylan,
It’s great to read that you got away relatively unscathed. Bummer about the Duc, of course. I believe your acceptance of the misfortune shows that you were always in touch and realistic about the risks involved in riding.
Doug
[...] About two weeks ago, Dylan Weiss at Twisting Asphalt wrote a thoughtful post about his first accident on a motorcycle. Now he’s written about getting back on the road: The fear of falling a [...]
The best thing about this experience is that you’re OK, and you have the crash out of your system.
The worst is the lack of concern for a fellow rider, (or a fellow human being, come to that), from the clowns that passed you without stopping!
A sad commentary on the way of the world, I’m afraid.
Cheers
Barry
Yeah man, sorry to here about the get off but at least you were fine. Could have been way worse!
Hey ya Doug — Appreciate what you wrote — It’s funny I’ve thought a lot about ‘the risks’ of riding since the crash — I suppose it’s only natural and perhaps prudent to do so. It is a wake up call, of sorts, after all — and as I’ve pondered the many possible outcomes; from the total extreme of death, to the much more depressing thought of being paralyzed, to simply having the crash result in a more serious injury, what keeps coming to mind is not that one is invincible or that one can skate the odds but rather the question of what one fears the most… In my case, at least for the moment, I’m far more scared of throwing a blanket over the issue and avoiding the very things in life that give me the most pleasure for the sake of security. I’d much rather live life, and thus live with the consequences of my actions, then live in what I would consider to be ‘fear’.
Real bummer to hear about your crash. As everyone has mentioned (and you yourself seem well aware), thank goodness you are physically (and mentally) okay. The bike damage is unfortunate, but easier to repair than skin and bone.
I found it interesting to read your story since I had a very similar get off on my 748 at the end of last year. It was a great day, the bike and I were feeling really good, and in the next instant - bam - low speed lowside when the front washed out. Best of luck with insurance, etc. Ducati parts be expensive!
Sorry to hear about the crash. Fortunately you had a fairly tame get off and not a run in with another car.
You’re looking at it in a positive light too. Chalk it up as a learning experience. The 999 can be fixed and gear can be replaced.
Glad you’re okay and back in the saddle and everything. I’ve been reading your blog on and off for a few years now but did not see this right away. My first get-off was when I high-sided my ST4 at ~30 mph on my way to work. Answered the \continue riding or not\ question by throwing all the loose bits into the sidebag and by limping the bike to the office and back
The bike ended up being a write-off…
Keep up the great work!
Hi Dylan,
I guess I was searching for a little catharsis about my own ‘hiccup’ last week — and I just wanted to say that what you’ve written is articulate, eloquent and almost exactly mirrors my own feelings toward the experience (even down to the pack of Marlborough lights!).
I live in the UK but had been working in Holland for a few weeks and decided to take my bike along for fun and my daily commute. To cut a long story short on my way home to London and about 40 miles south of Amsterdam the weather closed in, I donned my waterproofs, rejoined a busy (and wet) two-lane highway, and found myself (about 5 minutes later) lying in the hard shoulder… I’d been filtering through heavy traffic (at no more than 25mph) and a car switched lanes without looking. I very nearly eked my way past him but he thumped into my pannier and sent me sprawling.
I was lucky… very lucky… (but ‘lucky’ doesn’t quite seem to be the right word) There was traffic all around me, I could quite easily have been hit by a passing car or lorry. My pads and gloves protected me from any damage and I got to my feet with no more than a bruised thumb (a bruise exactly the same shape as the protective pad on my glove). Fortunately my Suzuki coughed itself back to life (the pannier protected the bike from the worst of the damage) and with a little bending of the bar-end I was able (forced, really) to ride the 240 miles, through Belgium and Northern France, back to London…
I’ve been riding for just under 10 years without accident (ok, truth be told I dropped my first bike when parking it). And I commute by bike, so when I say 10 years, I mean almost daily — and riding in London you get more than used to slippery roads and plenty of traffic. Just to be clear on this, I’d been driving a car for 10 years before touching a motorbike(!), so I came to motorcycles as an ‘adult’ and with and adult’s appreciation of the risks and potential consequences of an accident. Where was I going with this…? Friends and family have always said “Don’t say that!” when I spoke of myself being “statistically overdue for an accident” but I’ve found that un-superstitiously carrying this attitude — and an appreciation of the risks — has kept me safe. It’s a bald statement: when you ride a bike you tempt fate. Like you I was utterly focussed on the job at hand, I saw the car turn in front of me, even had time to hoot at him… and I realised that the bump was inevitable.
You’re right: “It happens. To all of us…To utterly fear the things that give you the most joy in life? That doesn’t sound particularly appealing.”
Two hours later and buzzing along the stunning roads of Northern France on a beautiful evening it really was with a sense of appreciation and sheer joy.
You’re right: There *is* “an odd sense of pleasure in finally feeling that last one remaining unknown when it comes to riding”.
And of course, the other (now known!) “unknown”, if I have an accident will I ride a bike again? The answer: clearly, ‘yes’!!
Been there, done that. I am glad you are ok. Yes you are right, It could have been worse, the important things is not the bike its the rider. Our other biker brothers aren’t so lucky. Some end up with both legs amputated, some scarred for life. God Bless you brother. Glad to know you’re ok.
Glad you’re alive and not too broken to keep riding yourself, mate.
Happy to read that you’re not hanging up your leathers because of a date with the asphalt.
I think your take on this just being the inevitable is right on. Clear your head, count your blessings and just chalk it up to another experience (spice) to add to the stew of life.
You came through it alive and that’s what matters in the end.