So what the hell happened? Here I am a week and a half after day one of my motorcycle adventure with a stomach full of knots, an unknown motorcycling future, and a very bruised body.

As I said earlier, what happened? Well lets rewind a little bit and go back to the beginning (and at the moment I wish above all else that this was possible). It’s day two of my new motorcycle-enriched life, right where I left you hanging from the last post, and boy is it a nice day. The sun is shining, the temperature is perfect, I’m home early from work (yes I must work, as awesome as my blogging abilities are, they don’t pay the bills), and I have nice hour to kill before dinner. So I decided to get to know my sultry gray mistress a little bit better. Excited for a nice solo ride, I suit up, swing a leg over, and take off into the calm suburban streets for some bike bonding. Damn it felt good to be alive at that moment, traffic was light, I was really starting to enjoy the control of changing gears (my life had been filled with automatics until now), and feeling the acceleration and hearing the pipes scream as I rev my 675  power plant was the ultimate high. Most importantly, I was beginning to feel comfortable with this two wheeled beast.

So in my current state of bliss, I decided to venture off onto the roads I used to drive when I first experienced the freedom of a drivers license. To give some background, I live in a city that is nestled in the foothills that overlook the vast valley that is the Inland Empire, and though some may view this area as a hemorrhoid on the ass of Los Angeles, when the weather is nice, and the light begins to fade, the view from the highroads can, though only for a short while, allow you to view the world as a place worth living in. Filled with a thirst for life, these highroads and that view were my goals as I twist the throttle and enjoy the sweet spring air.

You can see those enticing mountains in the background; that's where I wanted to be!

There are moments in life where you have the choice to go straight or make a turn, both will lead to a goal, but you can only go one way; I chose the wrong way. As I came up to an intersection, just a few minutes after I began my little journey, I decided to make a left and head up toward the scenic foothill roads. Now this is where it gets a little unpleasant. The traffic was light, the intersection was open, I was in second gear going about 20 to 25 mph as I enter this turn, and everything seemed right. Then came the gravel. My back tire lost traction, my butt puckered like a rabbit’s nose, the bike slid out from under me into a curb and I had an intimate rendezvous with the unyielding road below me. The next thing I know,I’m slowly picking myself up from the pavement, my bike is on its side next to the sidewalk, and I’m patting myself all over thinking I broke something or am potentially dead. Well luckily (and trust me I don’t say that lightly, I still shiver to think how bad it could have been) nothing was broken, just bruised, sprained, and cut, but due to the overdose of adrenaline I didn’t feel anything but anger and frustration. High off my hormones, I take off my helmet, rush over to my downed motorcycle and lift the nearly 400 lb bike to its proper position. I’d regret that lifting later as my body punished me for being so stupid, but for now all I cared about was how damaged my new bike was.

So now for the damage assessment, and right off the bat it doesn’t look good. My front tire was bent, along with my forks and handlebars. As I look at the left side of the bike (the side that hit the ground), I notice a broken clutch lever, bent shifter, broken foot pegs, and a cracked rear body panel. My first reaction was to try to save myself the hassle and shame of calling a tow truck to have my new bike delivered back to my house, so in my clouded hormonal mind, I decide the best option is to try to ride the poor  battered thing home. Well the bike had other plans, with a bent shifter, a destroyed clutch lever, and handlebars that didn’t remotely represent the direction the wheel was facing, it was going nowhere fast. So with a head full of frustration I decided to call in the only person I knew who had any experience with this type of catastrophe, the Godfather.

Now what I learned from this experience, is that when you call someone with a  distressed voice, and they know that you were out on a ride, it is best to open the conversation with the assurance that you are not broken, just your bike is. So after assuring the Godfather, and more importantly his daughter (my girlfriend of 5 years), that I was ok, they came up and helped me to sort out the mess of insurance and towing. This is where I must note that even though motorcycling is a solo activity, when the fecal matter flies into the fan, having a close family can mean everything in this situation and I really must thank my family and friends for their support during this very unpleasant situation.

Oh what unpleasantries lay in the aftermath. First of all, these unpleasantries are far less than they could have been, and anyone who decides not to fully gear up is a fool. If I hadn’t been wearing a full-faced helmet, gloves, and my jacket, I would at the very least be missing a jaw and a great deal of skin. If that isn’t enough to convince you to wear your gear, try to think of the horror your family has to deal with then they find out you’re in the hospital. So needless to say I’m happy I only had to trade my leathers in for a chicken liver yellow wrist brace instead of a hospital gown and skin graphs. Now along with the physical side effects of my incident, I’m also left with the far more painful mental and financial side effects. First, the mental issues. OK, so as I stated earlier, I was in seventh heaven riding my bike around and that was quickly destroyed by a patch of gravel, so along with a very bruised ego, I have developed the strong urge to not ride again. You think about the consequences a whole lot more after you have been in an accident, even a minor one like mine. You think about everything you have that could be lost if something were to go wrong, and all the people that would be hurt and left to pick up the pieces. Now I know every rider out there says that you just can’t think about this, because once it’s in your head it’s far more likely to happen. But this is like ignoring a 400 lb gorilla in the corner of the room. It’s a large, blatant fact that must be accepted and dealt with. So that is the mental turmoil that I’m left with after the crash, to ride or not to ride.

On top of all that crap, the reality of what a financial commitment this is kicks in. So in my current situation I have two potential outcomes. The first, and best, is that the bike gets written off. Now I know most people would view this as the worst, but I had the foresight to purchase GAP insurance, something I would always recommend, so if the bike is written off my only loss is the gear I purchased and my down payment. The second scenario, and far worse than the first, is that it doesn’t get written off. This is worse because I didn’t have the foresight to get an insurance plan with a lower deductible, so I’m responsible for the first $1000 of my motorcycle repairs. Then after the repairs, I’m stuck with a sky high insurance payment and a bike payment for a motorcycle I am seriously doubting I will ever ride again. So needless to say, my stress levels and pocketbook really want the first scenario. Unfortunately at the moment the outcome of this situation is still unclear. I have my motorcycle at the mechanics and the damage is around $6K, which is close to the limit of what the insurance will pay for before it gets written off, so we will see how this turns out early next week and I’ll be sure to let you know.

To ride or not to ride... that is the question.

So in short term retrospect I can already see that no matter the final outcome, this has been a valuable learning experience, and another event to chronicle in the adventures of BrenandSven. Regardless of the outcome and my motorcycling future, BrenandSven will remain strong and continue bringing you our awkwardly bromantic view on the world of bikes, brews, and anything else that catches our intererest.

Live the Journey-Bren