of ‘76 when I simply decided to take the dear
old CB500 out for an evening jaunt across the
seafront landscape. In a T-Shirt, light cotton
trousers and sneakers. But helmet of course.
Like the other times I’d embarked on
a casual evening ride it was warm, and
the passing air was barely cooling.
Visor up, and aim for the nearby horizon.
But unlike the other seven or eight occasions
this time I gave the buzzing four a bit more
of a squirt on the final corner from home and
accordingly gave it a bit more braking, and
presto... locked front wheel and down it all came.
The only silver lining was that I only had to
hobble about 15m to the house to alert the old
man that I wouldn’t mind a lift to the outpatients
department. Three hours and about 25 stitches
scattered across elbows and knees later dad
got the second request for a lift... home.
The following day I was as sore as it could get,
but still managed to ride the damaged 500
down to the local Honda shop... sidesaddle.
And I called dad again for another
lift home. “Bloody motorcycles,” he
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mumbled during the drive back.
There was another silver lining however. Because
from that day onwards it didn’t matter how far
I was intending to ride or in how much summer
heat, I always kitted up. Even if it was a light jacket
it had firm sleeves, and equally firm jeans,
and gloves.
Once bitten (by the tarmac), twice shy.
Which is why I shudder during the summers
of the “ouch” when I see young guys darting
about the streets on their bikes as if dressed
for a warm evening barbecue party.
I also shudder when I see kids darting off to high
school upon their scooters. Scooters, of course, are
practical means of transport for a young person
as they are cheap to run and maintain. But they
are also capable of keeping up with traffic flows of
course, which means they will keep up with other
very big items of road-using hardware. I think
we’ve all seen them... those kids whose minds are
still forming and who love to weave and gas it in
little packs. All bare knees and elbows. Ouch.
Some simple advice kids (and errant
summer evening riders)... cover it.