It may have been a spring day during my junior year in college, or it could have been late winter. In some ways, I have tried to erase this experience from my memory.
Let me slow down a little and give you some background. Growing up, I was not a city boy, but I was not a farm boy. You could say I was the product of a small town. On the other hand, the gang I hung out with had more connections to farm life.
Because of this association, they all had access to two-wheel transportation. My mother was not keen on motorcycles. She didn’t want me on one, no way, no how.
You’ve all heard the saying — there are two types of motorcycle riders: those who have been in an accident and those who will be in an accident.
To a young, long-haired college student in the early 1980s, a motorcycle was the symbol of revolution. But it was not attractive enough for me to spend my hard-earned money on one. Other things were draining my bank account, namely college, cars, and girls (not in that order).
Many times on the weekend, Ray, Rick, Richard, and Steve would ride the gravel roads in the county on their dirt bikes in search of adventure. Without a bike of my own, I was left behind. It’s something you get used to. I really don’t ever remember this bothering me.
One weekend, they must have felt sorry for their comrade who had been left behind because they had found an old dirt bike for me to ride.
Today many children grow up with a dirt bike. I’m sure you may even know some who compete. Children as young as 4-years old can participate in motocross with a 50 or 70cc dirt bike.
The only experience I had on a bike was the kind you peddle. After a few short lessons, I followed everyone else down a gravel road on an old 125cc Yamaha. Their bikes were much newer and more in the range of 250cc.
It didn’t take long before we found the adventure we were seeking, or maybe it found us. Anyway, there it was, several large piles of clay near a clay pit.
Experienced landscapers use heavy equipment to move piles of dirt around to create an obstacle course for motocross races at local fairs and on TV. The racers then literally fly through the air from one pile of dirt to the next.
At first, I sat back and watched my friends easily tackle one particular pile of clay. They didn’t fly through the air. They just climbed the pile of clay with their bike. It was probably not more than 15 or 20 feet tall.
To me, it looked like a small mountain. My friends kept encouraging me to take on the challenge. They said it would make me feel like a man to conquer the mountain.
This was one of the only times I gave in to peer pressure and said OK. Believe me, I learned my lesson. Ray told me what to do it. Just put the bike in first gear and give it plenty of gas, and whatever you do, don’t let it up until you reach the top.
So after saying a couple of quick Hail Marys, with adrenalin racing through my veins, I mounted the old bike that I had learned to trust, revved up the engine, and started up the pile of clay.
To my surprise, there wasn’t much to it. I had defeated the mountain in no time and found myself at the top. That’s when my life flashed before my eyes.
If this were a TV show, here is where I would leave you hanging. You would have to tune in next week to find out how my only experience on a dirt bike ended, or at least cut to a commercial.
Anyway, back to my story. In the middle of that clay pile was a small tree, and I and the motorcycle were headed straight for it.
It was a simple decision: get off the bike. So I placed my feet on the ground and let go.
I failed to explain one thing about the dirt bike my friends had procured for me—this bike was street-legal, so it had a small license plate just behind the seat.
That license plate caught my Levi jeans just under my crotch. I was millimeters away from not being able to have kids. Luckily, the only thing damaged was my jeans and my pride. Actually, the jeans were destroyed with a rip going down past my knee.
If you don’t believe me, I have photographic proof. Just visit our website at www.GasconadeCountyRepublican.com. Under the opinion pull-down menu, select A New Adventure.
In case you are wondering, the bike survived its collision with the tree.
