After the Big One

Previously posted on motorcycles@

This is more of a reflection piece, and hopefully a reminder to those who continue to ride of the very real risks.

I wanted to share my story of the big one. If I even help one young person take a second look at their choices I believe this will be worth it. This is not intended to be an anti-motorcycle or a crash analysis thread, perhaps we can save that for later.

To start off with the backstory, I’m 24 years old and I started riding just under a year ago. Why did I pick it up? Well my dad and his brothers rode and I heard their stories throughout my childhood (though all of them quit before they had children). I wanted to use it as a commuter weapon. I wanted to push myself beyond my comfort zone. And I also had a dream of racing motorcycles.

I would argue that I’m an analytical and rational person as a software engineer at Google. I have been browsing forums such as r/motorcycles, barf and this forum before I even got my bike. I took the MSF course, bought the safety books, read and watched Twist of the Wrist, and got some of the best safety gear I could find. I practiced constantly in the Amphitheater parking lots and participated in one of our groups cone obstacle courses. I signed up for multiple track days and have been constantly improving my times and increasing my confidence. I even had a decent spill once, but was very lucky that I could walk it off.

I intellectually knew the statistics. Like you are 30x more likely to die per mile than a car. You can get seriously injured, maimed, disabled, paralyzed or killed. But this happened to other people. The kind of people who didn’t wear helmets, or drank, or did wheelies on the highway. I was too young, too confident, too smart and too cocky to even conceive of the possibility it could ever happen to me.

The problem, I found, is that it just takes one mistake, in a fraction of a second. It might happen on a day you least expect. It is so unbelievably fast. That always keeps coming back to me, how fast it happened. One moment you are having the time of your life, and the next you realize you are about to be fucked. The impact is epic, tumbling through the air itself is bizarrely serene. Once you’re back on the road, you do a quick mental check, yes I’m still alive. But that’s part one, if you’re on the 101 like I was, you have to roll the die again. Is it a truck, SUV or car barreling down on me? How good is the driver and her brakes? Well, clearly as I’m still here writing this, I lucked out.

That day is already a distant memory. Yet I still remember as I lay on the tarmac I could only look at my right leg for a second. I never dared to look again. I panicked a little, and my thoughts ran wild. Am I gonna die? Will I ever walk again? And if so, when? Will I keep my leg? Surprising, the physical pain was not overwhelming, whether due to shock or adrenaline. The mental anguish for me was much worse. Why did I do that? Can I please get a redo? And the saddest thought I had: this was so not worth it. Before the fire trucks, ambulance, police and tow truck arrived, I had already promised myself I will never ride again.

It is not outside the realm of possibility that in a year from now, I will laugh at my momentary weakness. Everyone falls off eventually. It’s all about how you get back on, finish your dream and live your life without fear. Those platitudes I used to believe.

It’s easy to be “brave” and laugh at risks when nothing really bad ever happened to you. Knowing you can get hurt and actually getting hurt are two very very different things. It affects the internal risk equations significantly, and it’s very hard to rationalize away. Now I know, I never did understand the risks.

To new and young riders, please take a look at what and who you have in your life, and how motorcycling fits into it. Is it something that defines who you are? Or is it just a hobby and cheap thrills?

My recovery will be long and painful. I intend to come back faster, stronger, more powerful than ever before.

Sigh, this is already too long. Some small things that I was never thankful for. One, being able to mindlessly perform washroom activities. And secondly, not constantly being in pain.

I was going to end this with, be careful and ride safe. But those words were utterly useless to me. The invincible will ignore it. The veterans don’t need to be told twice. So I guess I will leave with my life pro tip, if you’re going to ride at least keep your room clean so it’s not super embarrassing when your family takes you home from the hospital.

Ahh what the heck, FOR GOD’S SAKE RIDERS, TAKE YOUR TIME OUT THERE