I Didn’t Die!

Posted on October 20th, 2009 by admin

This past weekend, my man Dan was gone to a so-called Bachelor’s party. Not your regular boobs in your face-girls grinding on your crotch-kind of bachelor party, but a mudding party. The guys brought their 4-wheelers and bikes and hit the trails. Sounds like a good time to me…and I’m sure this guy’s soon-to-be-wife was happy to hear about his rather tame bachelor party. Other men out there should follow suit.

Anyway, Dan took his dirt bike and had a great time. I don’t know much about it other than that it’s a 1996 Honda and it’s a 250cc. A 250cc is a pretty big bike-I think it’s the biggest dirt bike engine you can get (correct me if I’m wrong, because I in fact know very little about bikes). Dan returned home on Sunday and posed the question which I had been dieing to hear: “Babe, do you want to go ride?”

OF COURSE I DO!

I have a bad habit of needing to try anything and everything…especially this “guy” stuff (hunting, shooting, driving big trucks, etc.). I know that I’m still a women and that women will never be able to do everything that a real man can do-but dang it I’m going to try cuz it looks like fun! This isn’t a new development in the world of Julie-I’ve always been like this. I will try anything at least once, and get really frustrated if I can’t do it, and try and try and try again until I can or I injure myself to the point where I can’t possibly try again. I guess I’m hard headed like that.

I wasn’t scared about riding the dirt bike. Dan made it look so easy, it couldn’t be that hard. I’ve seen plenty of girls ride dirt bikes and not die. I knew I could do it. Dan gave me a brief tutorial which consisted mainly of teaching me about the gears. For some reason I have brain block when it comes to shifting things-he also tried to teach me how to drive a stick a while back and it didn’t go so well. There’s just something about having to press something with your foot and hand simultaneously that makes my brain turn off. I decided that I just wanted to cruise around in first gear. No shifting to second this time around. Successfully shifting to second would be far too difficult for me and I didn’t want to try to do it all at once. So I got on the bike, kick started it, gave it some gas, pulled in the clutch, shifted from Neutral to First and was ready to go. Just like with a stick shift vehicle-you have to slowly let out the clutch while at the same time giving it a bit of gas. I do believe that I stalled the bike out about 10 times before my first successfull take off.

But I did it! I took off (and I use the term “took-off” very loosely as I was cruising in 1st gear at a snail like pace). I went around the pasture a couple times then decided to stop to reconvene with Dan and act all snobby about it-like it was no big deal that I had just ridden a huge dirt bike without killing myself.-like I had been riding my whole life-like I wasn’t scared that I was going to flip over the handle bars and get my precious face ran over by the bike. He was semi-impressed I think and I decided to give it another go. I was confident about starting the bike, steering and controlling the bike, and stopping (sort of). So I started it up again…and stalled out again and again and again. But finally I “took off” again. This time I was feeling much more confident. Maybe I should give it a little gas? Yeah-sounds like a good idea. Dan will be really impressed then. Did I mention that I’m still only in first gear?

So I pulled the throttle and before I knew it my front tire was in the air and I was headed directly for a fence. I saw my life flash before my eyes (not much to be seen), realized that I may possibly die, thought about Dan and wished I could see the look of terror on his face as I was doing a wheelie and heading towards a fence, and finally I let the throttle down. Just as the front tire hit the ground and I managed to slow down a bit-I hit the fence. I heard bones crushing-saw blood in my eyes-felt three teeth fly out of my mouth-and felt the bike run over my precious face.

Ok…totally kidding.

But I did run into the fence. Luckily I was going slow (I honestly felt like I was going 80 mph) and the fence had lots of brush on it so it was pretty cushy. The bike stalled out and I turned around to see Dan rushing up on the 4-wheeler. I hopped off the bike and said “Shit!” about ten times. I was mad at myself for not being able to react to the bike the way I should have. All I had to do was release the throttle, squeeze the clutch and hit the brake. Apparently my brain can’t think about doing three things at once when said brain thinks it may soon cease to exist. Dan said in his deep, calm voice, “Baby-I don’t think it’s anything worth swearing about.”

Oh jeez…way to drop me from a building back to reality. He does that to me sometimes when I get all worked up about things that don’t really matter. And he was totally right. It wasn’t worth swearing about. I didn’t die. Didn’t even get a scratch. Didn’t harm the fence or the bike; which was of course my main concern. And didn’t get my precious face run over. All was good and well with me and the world.

I took a few deep breaths, collected my thoughts, thought about the bike and what I did or didn’t do to cause my little accident, and started it back up.

By the end of the afternoon-I was doing pretty well. Feeling more confident on the bike-without being cocky, and having more fun. I even shifted to second to get some more speed (a huge milestone for someone who’s brain refuses to comprehend the idea of shifting/clutching). And didn’t do another wheelie again that afternoon. Success!

Here’s a pic of me on Dan’s bike. Don’t I look like I kinda-sorta know what I’m doing?

Dirtbike 009