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I have a long relationship with motorbikes. Or maybe I should say had. I haven't owned a bike since 1982 and have ridden one maybe twice since then. Quiting was both easy and hard. It was tough to leave that part of my life behind when I moved from California to Saskatoon. But then, I was leaving one of the best places in the world to ride bikes, and moving to Saskatchewan. What I like about bikes is riding them along windy roads, flicking them from side to side, going up and down the gears and braking hard for the next corner. All this is lost in Saskatchewan. There are essentially no winding country roads. They tend to be ruler-straight, aligned along the grid lines, going either north-south or east-west. The only corners are at right angle intersections. Even these are no fun on a motorbike. Usually there is sand or dirt sprinkled about on these corners, either blown there by the wind, or dumped there in the winter to give vehicles some modicum of control on the ice and snow. Sand or dirt in a corner is the one thing that you don't want to encounter on a motorbike. So, it wasn't that hard to quit, and in honesty, I don't miss it. I am still alive and healthy... after 2 motorbike accidents... which isn't anything to sniff at. Growing up in Africa, or any European country for that matter is different from growing up in Canada. EVERYONE rides a moped or motorbike. The contrast to North America is startling, where everyone anxiously awaits getting their driver's licence at age 16, and then is handed 2 or 3 tons of Detroit Iron to drive around. In Europe, people tend to get mopeds at age 10 or 12, and ride them until they can afford a car, perhaps 10 years later. I think you grow up more traffic aware when the only thing you can really hurt/kill is yourself. Anyways, my first motorbike was actually a cross between a motorbike and a moped. Legally, it was a moped, but only in engine size and in having pedals. 50ccs, 3 speed gearbox, and the usual motorcycle controls, hand clutch and toe shifter. To ride it you had to swing the pedals to a horizontal position, with the right foot forward to shift gears, and the left foot back, so that the left heel could operate the rear brake. Fun little toy. Accident #1 Driving along a busy (rush hour in Kinshasa) 4 lane road, doing about 50 kph. A bus suddenly stopped in front of me, or I suddenly noticed that it had stopped. I slammed on the brakes, and locked up the rear, which slid out and I was suddenly sitting on the pavement, sliding sideways at 50 kph. Probably sand on the road, there always is in these dry tropical cities. Michel Lajeunesse who had been sitting on the back of the back, bounced and rolled away into the sand, ending up with several large raspberries. Meanwhile, I continued to slide along in a shower of sparks, coming of the engine as it scraped along the pavement. No injuries that I noticed at all, one leg under the bike, all the while doing some token steering into the skid.... far too late for that! I came to a halt some distance before the bus, and as I breathed a sigh of relief, a dump truck went by in the fast lane... and ran over the front of the bike. I still had a leg under it, which ended up being badly bruised and not much else. Or so I thought at the time. I hobbled over to the edge of the road, where Michel and I hailed a taxi, returned the bike to his place. Since his parents were not in town, we went to my place. Hmmm. Not much good either. My parents were out at a cocktail party. So, we lay down and waited... Eventually they came home to discover the two of us. Dad took his guests to the other end of the house while Mom cut my clothes off and discovered a large hole in my thigh. You know those little knobs on the end of brake levers? Well, when they have been knocked off the end of the lever, the result is a sharp pointy thing, which can cut quite well. It had taken a big (4"long x 1"wide x 1"deep) triangular chunk out of my leg. Off to the hospital... which was closed (this is Africa, remember?). So, next day went in to the doctor, who cleaned it out (that wasn't fun) and told us that odds were 90% that it was going to get infected (this is Africa, remember?). Somehow, it didn't get infected, and healed really well and quickly. The bruising meant that I had lots of incentive to keep it still at all times and really helped in not pulling the big long stitches out. Life goes on, and for a whole day I said I wouldn't ride a motorbike again... But, two days later, I was out on the driveway, seeing if I could ride the bike again... And was, as soon as I was off the crutches. Accident #2 Once I got to University, motorbikes were the way to travel. Cars cost a lot compared to the motorbikes I bought! |
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