First Drop + dogs

 I hear everyone eventually drops their bike, especially if they ride off road.  I'm not sure it's true.  It sounds like one of those things made up by the few that actually drop their bikes.  I dropped mine.

I headed down a dirt road in Ellet Vally.  Just Exploring.  Ended up it was not very long and dead ended into a driveway with a house up on a hill.  So ... time to turn around.  For some reason - maybe it's not just me, maybe - for some reason I have a hard time turning around slowly in a tight space.  Like one lane gravel road kind of tight.  Not terrible, just tight.

Anyway, I stopped to think about the whole process.  About that time I noticed that there were two large dogs barreling down the hill toward me barking their heads off ...great.  With my newly introduced shorter time frame in mind, I gave it a little gas, let the clutch out and made about a quarter turn.  Now I am perpendicular to the gravel road ...and the barking nutballs have covered about half the space between the house and me.

Stopping is what did it.  Ever stopped perpendicular to a hill.   Ever noticed that the ground is now much farther away on the downhill side ...well if not, it is.  Here's the thing - at best I am on my tippy toes when I am sitting on my KLR, which by the way I have lowered about 2 inches from stock.  Now, stopped, with dogs getting closer, I got to go!  I let off the clutch, go about two inches and grab the brake.  Why? ...couldn't tell ya.  I just did.  This lined me up with the cosmos in such a way that my relationship with gravity - usually my friend - turned on me and left me with my bike now tilted down hill.  It took a while before my foot hit the ground.

When my foot finally hit the ground my bike was at what felt like a 45 degree angle - maybe it wasn't that bad, but that's what it felt like.  I hold the bike up from the downhill side, the dogs are still coming, I am too short (or too weak ...dang!) to life the bike back up.  I tried.  Even strained my low back a little - joy.  But it did not budge.  I decided the only thing I could do is lay the bike down and start from scratch.  So, I did.

The dogs arrived.  My heart was pounding in my chest.  I had no plan.  To my great relief, the dogs where more hecklers that biters.  They stayed about 10 feet away and barked their heads off like they meant to eat me - but they stayed put.  I really wasn't trying to call their bluff.  I was just short ...and maybe a little weak. (Joining Crossfit next week ...seriously, I am)

I saw the humor in this as it was happening.  I imagined some evil 13 year old looking out his window, trying to catch his breath because he was laughing too hard - watching his dogs give me the Wallengivens treatment.  How do I know the 13 year old's last name was Wallengivens? ...I don't.  Just kinda sounds funny.  I get pretty creative when my only means of escape is a 350lb motorcycle laying on it's side with two big, loud, barking-ass dogs on the opposite side ...very creative.  I should bring a notebook on my rides from now on ... or one of those mini-cassette recorders - except now I think they are probably digital recorders.  I remember eight tracks.  Do you remember eight tracks.  My uncle Corky gave us an eight track of "A Nod is as Good as a Wink to a Blind Horse" by America.  My dad looked at it like "What's this hippie crap", though he didn't say it - he didn't have to.  It was the 70's after all.

I lived.  Got the bike up and drove away.  Barking-ass dogs in the mirrors.