False fear jacks people up! Look around. It’s the sixth month of 2020 and there hasn’t been a single week in which fear wasn’t driving events. Most of the populace has become ridiculously risk averse; the rest throw tantrums. The adults who operate civilization struggle to hold ground. Witch burners march from their strongholds in HR departments, mobs wreck their own cities, and yet very little of the fear is real. It’s all bullshit.
[Whoa! Who left this soapbox here? Hmm… maybe I’ll stand on this thing. Now, where was I?]
The thing about fear is that it’s normal and you ought to have some. You need actual (not false) fear to stay rational. You should also have a little risk. If you’re not taking at least some risks, you’re already dead. If your life is too soft and riskless; you lack true fear and tend to get wound up over pointless bullshit fear. Frothing over CNN’s newest fake news doesn’t help anyone.
Choose a real risk. One that’s personal and relevant. Use the challenge to help yourself level up.
I fear sand.
My little dirtbike stumbles on sand. I didn’t know that about dirt bikes. Until I learn how to handle sand, I can’t ride fat and mellow like I’d prefer. I’m working on it. I’ll get better. I’ll win in the end…
My previous trail ride’s sketchy performance on sand had me unnerved. I ordered up a new front tire. It would take a while to arrive.
Many people would park the bike and wait. It didn’t want to do that. But, in subtle ways, I began finding reasons to stay home instead of taking another ride. If I was being honest with myself, I was wimping out. The sand had spooked me.
I decided to try a different trail system; maybe I would find more favorable conditions? Unexpectedly, I bumped into a second mental block. I intended all along to buy an expensive loading ramp called a “StepRamp-B6”. My logic was that I will always load and unload the motorcycle solo and my truck is pretty tall. (The Internet is awash with videos of motorcycle loading “mishaps”. They’re hilarious and terrifying.) During the COVID insanity I forgot all about ordering the ramp. Now, probably due to the sand, I started shying away from loading my bike onto the Dodge. From time to time I’d glance at the weather and think “I ought to go for a spin on Honey Badger”. Then I’d fret over muscling the little bike into my truck and find something else to do.
This is how fear gets you, the subtle damage is a growing list of opportunities lost and experiences forgone. (Is not 2020 a demonstration of small losses due to events and large ones due to fear?) I threw down the gauntlet (at myself); “two days from now I’m going riding or I will die trying”.
Well intended but not the best timing.
In this world of luxury, most people don’t know there are houses without air conditioning. I have such a house. I usually get by just fine. Every now and then a heat wave kicks my ass. When that happens, I don’t get any sleep for several consecutive days. It was the middle of a heat wave. I’m not saying this to whine but so you know I was probably too tired to be having adventures.
It was a very hot day. About 2:00pm, when the sun was high in the sky I headed to my truck to start loading it. Walking to the truck, my face melted off. (Okay fine, it wasn’t quite as bad as that dude from Indiana Jones but it sure felt like it.) I did an about-face, headed for my cellar which is cold and dank and dungeon like; the coolest location at hand. I flopped into a chair and immediately fell asleep.
Hours later, partially rested but well behind schedule, I tried again. Rather than load the bike into my tall truck I loaded it into my trailer. (I have an adequate ramp if not the elaborate one I really want. Despite my concerns, the load up was easy.) Unfortunately, the trailer lights were kaput. (I can’t blame the trailer. I’ve hauled enough firewood on it to wear out any consumer product. Then I built a boat and started using the utility trailer as if it were a submersible boat trailer. The wiring has been patched and replaced and torn up by stumps and doused on boat ramps etc… I’ve gotten my money out of it.)
I could depart without trailer lights. During the day, no one would notice. Coming back at night was a different issue. I have magnetic trailer lights as a backup but I had no idea where they were. I decided to stop at an auto parts store on the way to the trailhead. I’d buy another set of magnetic lights. Sometimes you have to pay to play.
The air-conditioned cab of my truck was pure luxury! Just as I pulled into the auto parts store, the phone rang. It was an important call so I sat in the idling truck for some time while I on the phone. God bless air conditioning! Just before my phone call was over, the auto parts store closed for the day. Dammit!
Having idled in the heat for quite a while, I rolled out again. I carry a lot of stuff in my truck. Maybe the magnetic lights were in there somewhere? I’d get to the trailhead and search the truck. If I found them I’d go riding. If not, I’d drive home in the daylight and enjoy more wonderful AC.
I got lost on the way to the trailhead. Meanwhile, my Dodge was pissed off about idling in parking lots and driving slowly on country roads. In a heat wave, blasting cool highway air over that radiator is important. Luckily, I found the trailhead before I melted my truck. I found the lights in my toolbox too. The best news of all? I was only half a mile from a bar!
The sign said it had an open grill. I would do my trail ride and reward myself with a “post adventure cheeseburger”! I unloaded the bike, suited up in riding gear, and rolled out.
I felt good. I’d confronted my fears. I was riding instead of waiting for a new tire. I’d loaded the bike and unloaded it. I’d found a new place to explore. I’d found my trailer lights. I’d even found a bar. Win!
It didn’t last long. Almost immediately, the trail turned into deep sand. ATVs had gone by (it’s their trail after all) and they’d piled up the sand. It was heaped like moguls on a ski run. I had my hands full keeping Honey Badger upright.
On a particularly deep patch the front tire went from sketchy to useless. It was plowing a furrow and catching no traction. I leaned back to take weight off the front forks, goosed the throttle to get up on top, and rode right into a tree.
Some days are like that.
I don’t want to oversell the situation. It was not even remotely bad ass.
This wasn’t an impressive, hard core, high speed, rooster tail of dirt flinging into the sky, sponsored by Red Bull, spectacular maneuver. Nope. It was a guy who ought to be old enough to know better careening through the sand like a fuckin’ idiot. It was a stubby little tree with a root ball that was raised up because the sand around had been eroded away. The good news is the little hill took most of my momentum and gently deflected it.
So, “hit a tree” isn’t an apt description. I ramped over a sandy pitcher’s mound that sported a single tree, bounced off it like a tennis ball, rolled ass over teakettle back onto the trail, and came to a stop in a big stupid heap.
I’m glad nobody saw me.
The wreck perfectly matched the hash I’d made of the whole day. Luckily I was uninjured. Honey Badger was fine too. However, no 4 stroke engine likes being at the angles I’d just inflicted (luckily it’d stalled). I see now, why they make 2 stroke bikes.
I staggered to my feet and stood up the bike (how many times will I benefit from the fact that it’s easy to pick up?). I let it sit on the kickstand so the oil could migrated back down where it belonged. I don’t know if it was necessary but that’s what I did. I apologized to the inert machine.
The worst part was the location. I was still within site of my Dodge! I hadn’t made it beyond the trailhead’s field of view. Pathetic!
TW200 motorcycles are reputed to be tough. It wasn’t my intention to need that ruggedness but apparently I do. I didn’t know I’d ride like a bike abusing maniac. It just seems to happen. I’m glad Honey Badger is a brick shithouse. (I’m also glad my old safety gear was adequate! I’ve got to get better gear soon!!!)
The only damage is a smashed rear turn signal. I’d been thinking of upgrading to LEDs but hadn’t budgeted the money. I guess that decision has been made.
It was still blazing hot, there was only an hour left of daylight, and I was within sight of my truck. You might think I’d quit. Not a chance!
I stuffed the broken lens in my luggage and rode on. Why the hell not?
I only covered about 10 miles that trip. Some of the trail was actually very fun. The rest was sandy and I barely stayed upright. I saw some cool little flowers and found a shady spot to rest out of the sun. I may have found a potential fishing spot. Aside from getting baked in the heat and smashing into a tree, it was a fun ride.
I got back to the trailhead as the sun was setting. The bar’s kitchen had closed 15 minutes before my arrival.
Some days are like that.
Your story is reminding me of a shirt I brought Better Half sometime back. It says Its the Journey not the Destination. My riding skills suck, peewee rides better than I. I have no doubt you will master sand.
If you ever find yourself in Toluka Lake, CA look up Formans Tavern. Great burgers great whisky selection (try the Angels Envy rye or Blantons Bourbon) The waitress and lady bartenders are easy on the eyes too.
A dram to the Honey Badger for bringing you back in one piece.
Hm… Angels Envy is a pretty good whiskey. Maybe I’ll buy a bottle and toast honey badger.
It’s all about learning (or the journey). If I already knew how to manage sand it wouldn’t be as interesting (though there’s some overlap between frustrating and interesting right now).
Tree Mike again, I don’t remember including ricocheting off root balls as part of my advice after Part 1. Physics, not just a good idea, it’s the LAW. I can’t count the times I’ve crashed in sand, dirt, mud, ruts, etc. I still think it’s fun and still like to do it at 69 andahalf. I’ve even been called a dumbass a time or 3, prolly deserved it. Have fun, sometimes it leads to happiness.
“[Whoa! Who left this soapbox here? Hmm… maybe I’ll stand on this thing. Now, where was I?]”
Your blog, your box. Two boxes to go after the soap box. Glad you’re having fun with sand; it’s fun to read.
Glad you’re having fun reading it. I’ve been having fun writing (and wrecking my bike).
Back sometime in the 70’s, AMC bought Harley-Davidson and they produced a 125CC endure bike. Worst piece of crap that ever existed, and I bought one. Pushed it more than I rode it. Front tire would have been more appropriate for a 10 speed racing bike. At the time, I lived in central Kansas on a rural sand road, and out there sand road means exactly that. One day as I wallowed it toward home, both feet on the ground, yawing 30 degrees right to left, I met a flatbed truck hauling a work gang from the local prison. Orange suits, leg chains, the works. The roar of laughter that went up from 2 dozen murderers and rapists still causes my ears to burn 40 years later. On the other hand, I suppose that their situation was a little easier to bear when they considered that even if they all died in prison, they would never be as pathetic as the dumbass on the sand road.
An HD Enduro… the mind boggles.
AMF, not AMC. The 2 stroke H-Ds that were manufactured in Italy by Aermacchi in the 70’s were an example off too little too late on AMF’s part.
Here’s a reveiw of them.
https://ridermagazine.com/2020/06/05/retrospective-1975-1978-harley-davidson-aermacchi-sxt-125/
Not sure if the Trans America Trail goes anywhere your neck of the woods:
I am aware of the Trans America Trail but had intentions of doing simple mellow day trail rides until I had a couple thousand miles experience off road. Then I’ll consider TAT or a Backcountry Discovery Route. Also, Honey Badger is a bit small for thousand mile rides. It’s more suited for hunting or fishing trips in my opinion. I’m getting good experience but only with fits and starts. What can I say? Its not what I planned but sinking in ponds and bouncing off trees is possibly the BEST part of 2020.