Day 204 - Ride a Motorcycle

Date: July 29th, 2010

One of the things I wanted to do this year was push myself past some of the fear I had about things.  In the past, I've been hesitant to do things that seem difficult, where failure is close to guaranteed or where my life might vaguely be endangered.  I credit my prior hesitancy with, you know, continued living thusfar.  That's probably why it took until the end of July for me to try riding a motorcycle even though my friend Louis first mentioned it way back in early June.

Away, Death Machine.  Away!

With overwhelming and shocking regularity, when I've done my new things, I've been surprised at what they're actually like.  My impressions of the world around me have been rocked upwards of five times a week.  Its... tiring.  That being said, every once in a while, I'm surprised by how right on target I've been about a particular experience.  I thought swimming in a waterfall would be super freaking awesome.  It was.  I thought I'd make some pretty kick ass chili.  I did.  (Seriously.  Nations could be built on the taste of my chili.)

Turns out, I was right on the money about riding a motorcycle.  Right on the fear-coma inducing money.  Before the bike even started, I knew it was a bad idea.  As I found out later, Louis was kind enough not to explain the mechanics of motorcycles.  If I knew they defied the laws of physics, I would never have gotten on the bike.

Showoff.

Before we were even out of the parking lot, I was planning my own funeral.  Louis seemed kind of hurt when I told him I immediately feared death with him at the helm, but I explained that if I didn't think he was a good driver, I wouldn't have gotten on in the first place.  The death fearing, well, that was going to happen no matter what.

The pre-bike safety lesson included him telling me which way to lean my head when he went through turns.  I'm sorry.  But if there are instructions that specific for the death machine I'm about to get on, well, I'm not going to be calm.  Not at all.  Oh, leaning my head the wrong way could make us crash at 45 miles an hour and all I'm wearing is a tee-shirt and sweats?  No, no that doesn't petrify me at all.

Louis was a good driver - he didn't go whizzing around cars or speed through intersections.  He didn't do anything to intensify my terror.  That being said, about two blocks away from where we started, I was ready to turn back.  See, as much as I tease, I had the realization that I was doing something that could be imminently responsible for my death.

It was terrifying.  Genuinely, truly, completely, terrifying.  It stuck me that even if Louis did everything right, which I'm sure he would've, we could still die if some idiot on a cell phone wasn't paying attention.  And the worst that person would get was a scratch on their car door.  I longed to be surrounded by metal again.  That and not to be moving at 45 miles an hour.  Louis kindly obliged taking me back early because I definitely couldn't finish the route we were planning on taking.

Even so, I'm proud I did it.  For me that was a big leap - something I was truly afraid to do.  Though the fear never went away, I still showed myself I could do it.  Well, for a block or two anyway.