17 miles: me and the BRC ~ part 3

Finally, it is day three; it began with me feeling strong. I had no ill effects of my previous day's battle with physics and the indomitable law of gravity. The arnica worked its magic and my sprains were a faint memory while my bruises, which should have been extensive, were coin sized and not bike sized. The muffler burn looked scary, but felt manageable and not distracting. This day, and all days in the future, I will wear chaps. Note to all: if ever you get a second degree burn, tend to it sooner than asap. They get worse with each day and I didn't deal with it until day 4...it's that stubborn streak in me, again. I felt confident; I knew where the controls were, what the "right touch" was for clutch, breaking and shifting. But balancing at slow speeds would continue to challenge me. The pics are my fellow lady student, Margarette, a awesome single woman from NH who had her own bike but no "real experience" with it. She asked the best questions as she had enough experience to know what was hard to do; all of it! The other pic is most of my class ready to mount up for an exercise. All of these patterns were designed to teach the multi-task skills of managing a motorcycle safely for any unexpected road condition. We started with weaves again; a slalom through the all orange, cup size cones. Left was easy, right was still very hard. I fought to get my body in the right place on the bike and negotiate the turns in a higher gear. The speed was great, second gear is so forgiving compared to first. This went well and then the instructors were grinning. Next we had to do the "box turn"; a small 20' circle at one end of a 40' by 20' box, it required a very slow speed. I could do counter clock wise easily. But to do clock wise, I went so off course that Jay was startled. No matter how hard I focused, heard their encouragement, I only succeeded once of eight attempts. Not good. But I could advance to the next exercise. Big high speed (third gear) arches and turns. I discovered, I was good at speed and did well both ways. But then the entry control for sharp turns. Left was hard but successful, right was undoable. I couldn't stay even close to the course. In the real world, I would have hit guardrails, or trees or little kids on the sidewalk. Frank was the one who approached me. I was vexxed and couldn't make my body do my brain's will. I could not execute his directions, safely. He stood in front then to the side. Spoke quietly when he said, "you're not meeting the objective...." I didn't get it; I'm not good at reading between the lines. I looked exhausted and puzzled. He said it again, more carefully: "you're not meeting these objectives; its not safe to continue." "I can see that, I just can't find the right place to put my balance for the turn..." I tried to explain, but I knew what was coming. "I want you to shut it down, put the side stand down, and dismount...you can not continue in this class..." His considerate instructions. When I performed the shut down, my last shut down: 'Thumb: kill switch off, Key: turned to off, Valve: fuel valve set to off', I dismounted, glanced at the odometer to see it read: 17 miles, it seemed like a hundred. I pushed my visor up and asked if I could give him a hug. Swallowing hard the failed dream, "thank you, for keeping me safe" as I hugged his shoulder. "that's my job", his confident reply...he said I could stay and watch all I wanted, take the written test for my permit...I was wilting like a flower as he spoke. I ambled to my car, peeled off helmet, chaps and gloves. Called my sweet biker man and left a message that I'm excused and will be home earlier. Maybe, if he was up for it, we could catch dinner, go for a twilight ride and a creeme. He had programed his phone to answer me with a love song. I smiled and leaked tears ~ sad to lose the dream, happy to feel so cared about. I pulled out my soccer mom chair and watched the group tweak their skills before the lunch break. Fast stops, road hazards, brake-straighten up and sudden stop in the curves. I would have dropped it, probably, in this one. I was tired and felt defeated by a brain injury that cannot process the precise cues that riding safely, requires. I pondered how much of my poor performance was due to coming with zero experience and having to learn every thing from step one in a fast paced, intensive program. . . how much was because my brain is broken, more than I can fathom. When the group broke for lunch, Margarette came over and gave me a kind, sincere hug. "We were all routing for you," Brushing away tears, I said that "at least I learned here and no one got hurt. You all look really sharp out there. I called my sweetie and hopefully, I catch a ride with him tonight..." She graciously reminded me how fortunate I was to have a sweetie, she had no one, just endless bad boyfriends...that's why she opted to ride for herself... On that note, I opted to depart, and not stay on to watch the class test. I just wanted to go home and begin the next day when I might feel better. I had my family, my farm, and my honey-what-loves-me. I'll ride with him often and savor the view over his shoulder while my arms hug his waist. The BRC was a challenge for me: could I, or could I not do it. In a safe place, with wonderful people and awesome instructors, I could not. I wanted to pass the test; but I had no intention of owning or riding my own bike. I started riding so I could make friends and discover places. I have gotten all of that and more. I have a precious friendship with a sweet man on his gleaming bike. I think, maybe, that's right where God wants me. I "Monday morning" analyze the whole experience every time I hear a bike thunder by, but I know this was the "best-for-me" outcome... its hard to be stubborn, if love kills slowly then I hope that is a really long time for me, in the company of very precious friends...
low wave and peace to all ~ ell

17 miles. . .me and the BRC part 2

Day two started unceremoniously after a restless night of non-sleep, I woke up an hour late. There would be no time for a proper breakfast. No time for an early arrival to the range to check out bikes and ask the pre-ride questions that I had. Our instructors, Frank and Jay, had the selection of bikes out idling to get the batteries fit for duty as they casually downed their coffee. Like a sophomore late for exams, I arrived buttoning my shirt, adjusting my boots and trying to catch up. They shut down the motors as I listened to the range rules: no mounting a bike until the instructor said so. No starting engines until the signal was given. Stand next to the bike that seems right.... They were all smaller than the HOGs I had ridden as a passenger on, but still just a turn of the handlebars gave an indication of their weight. I sidled up to a red Suzuki 125. It had a little chrome and I liked that. I straddled the seat, and was told to get off until instructed to mount up. "I was checking for size to see if I could be flat footed on it...." My instructor commanded my dismount, "not yet, we have stuff to go over first, by the way, it looks good for you..." on with his instructions. My internal speak: 'I am not off to the best start, not how I wanted to commence this adventure...underfed, sleep deprived and very challenged for directions in this class of 13 students' After opening instructions, we were allowed to mount, with no power and just to feel our bikes in our hands. Turn the handlebars left, turn 'em right, find neutral, rock the bike, "power-walk" in first gear... I got this much pretty well. Now I can breathe a little better. It felt doable as I sat and fiddled with my new helmet. A 3/4 face with a nice shield. It fit great, was light weight and didn't smother me like the full face I tried months ago. Everyone's helmet choices were interesting. Only one other lady had a 3/4 face, the other girls had massive full face lids in variety of pink graphics. The men mostly had open face with a couple of shielded lids, but all of them black. We had to wear long sleeves, over the ankle boots/shoes and minimum jeans. As we were on small bikes, I could stop with both feet flat on the ground, we were going no more than 15 mph, on flatish parking lot with no hazards...I opted to leave my chaps in the car and go in jeans, that was a poor choice. With the start up protocol: FINE C (fuel on/ignition on/neutral gear/engine switch on/clutch engaged) we were introduced to the shift pattern. So easy on a bike! From neutral: first is one click down, 2,3,4,5 is one click up once the engine is putting power on the back wheel. I got that, most of the time, though it seemed like my clutch handle was a bit loose and had a wide "friction zone". I should have said so; that was another error. We practiced big slow circles left and then right using the whole parking lot. Going left was easy, really easy for me smiling broadly, the coach mentioned that he saw me light up. 'I can do this!' When it was time to circle right, the throttle is on the right hand grip, now I was showing my rookie side. Every time I tried to negotiate to the right, I'd hit the throttle, panic and close the clutch loosing power and direction. "It's just noise, I'm not worried about it, you shouldn't..." my coach would say every time. It worried me as I couldn't separate the task. After an hour of this, I over steered the bike trying to stay in the clockwise pattern, and dropped the bike. . . on me. It happened so fast, I couldn't get my right foot down to try and correct; so down to the pavement with no chaps and stuck under a 250 lb motorcycle with no crash bars. The iron bike was hard, the ground was harder. I managed to hit the kill switch but couldn't wiggle out, so the coach had to come over and lift it off. I twisted my right knee and ankle thoroughly well. But I was so irritated with myself, I lied about the sprain and got back on. I was shaking and hoped they didn't see that I was addled. I put it in gear and rode back into the staging area as directed, trying to regain some confidence. We all dismounted and walked over to our next exercise review. I was trying to walk straight and not limp or trip...too stubborn to admit that I was bent all the wrongways...My coach asked if I was ok; I lied; "yeah, just a little scuffed" As soon as I could, I found my Arnica and started pumping 4 tablets every 15 minutes, for the rest of the day. In an hour, I felt better. Swinging my leg over the bike was an exercise in soreness, but I was not quitting. I did well enough until mid afternoon when I dropped it a second time. I merely got distracted and lost the balance of the bike. Again to the right. This time, out of pure grit, I picked it up my self and restarted it. I remounted and continued with the exercise. 'I'm not giving up...' this would become my hourly mantra. We were weaving cones, the orange ones I could see and usually do well. The green ones, I couldn't see until there was no time to correct for the assigned pattern. ugh...I'm getting tired and all I could find for lunch was a berry yogurt at the gas station up the road. I'm thinking more seriously about giving up as each exercise is more difficult, more fatiguing, more discouraging. Going to the right is nearly impossible for me and again, I dropped the bike on me. This time, I tried to wriggle out but found the muffler as I tried. As the coaches pulled the bike off, I felt a twinge of heat on my calf. 'I'm not quitting, now I'm mad and I will finish this day' I got back on, visibly exhausted as the coach asked if I was tired. "yes, I am tired" I admitted this. "We're almost done on the range today, we'll go back to the class and cool off, do the last questions and see some videos...you gonna make it?"he encouraged. "Yes, I believe I will." I was the only student who dropped a bike, but 3x was 2 times to many...At some point, I phoned my biker buddy, and confessed: "I bow down to you, I bow down, I bow down,,,you make this look so easy..."as I choked back tears. In the class room, the questions went well, I knew them all. My roller coaster of defeat and exasperation had leveled off and I promised myself to sleep well and see what the morning would bring...I made it this far, I couldn't give up. I'm always telling my kids to stick with it; give it 100% so there will be no regrets, even in defeat...The coach asked what I was thinking. "I wanted to finish the day, wake up in the morning and see how I feel. I'm pretty sore and a little frustrated..." was my humble answer. He smiled, "I was curious what you would say; that's a good plan." I continued:"I'm very stubborn, I could break my leg and I would try to continue...you guys will have to draw the line for me. If I am unsafe to myself or the others, you'll need to stop me...I don't know how to quit anything..." He quietly responded, "that's our job." I walked to my car thinking: 'all's well that ends well, any day you can walk away from is a good day..." What readers need to remember: love~kills~slowly. . .more to come
this is ell

17 Miles. . . me and the BRC part I

I've been riding two-up for three summers now. Last fall, I got the notion that I should get my motorcycle endorsement and be able to ride my own bike when and where I wanted to. Join a club, start a group with some local riders. It's such a keen culture. So having missed all the '08 Basic Rider Courses, I targeted the first course I could fit into in spring '09. I counted the days, read books and awesome moto-riding blogs (Better Motorcycling is the best for accurate skills development the address: http://bettermotorcycling.wordpress.com/). I was primed. That was probably my first error; there would be many more in this 3 part story. It's always a set up for divergent outcomes when one sets their hopes so high, outcomes begin to feel dream-like (that should be read: fantasy). The BRC is a 20 hour, intensive course presented by highly experienced instructors in the artful skill of riding a motorcycle, successfully (with the rubber side down, walking away from every ride). The goal is to teach the student everything one needs to know to pass the DMV driver test for motorcycles in VT. Back in April, I went to a 4 hour classroom training to get my permit. I passed the written exam with only one error. I was convinced I could take the BRC and pass the test. On Friday, June 19, I walked into the classroom at 6:15 pm ( last and late because I couldn't understand the directions they sent me). I was asked to introduce myself, why I was taking the class, and what was my experience, what kind of bike did I have. I quickly gave my name and town, my interest in pursuing driving after riding with several men "who would like to see me on my own bike, I think they're just tired of hauling me around..." Folks chuckled as was my hope, but when I stated that I did not have my own bike, and I have never driven a motorcycle, the room went silent. My instructor actually hung his head and managed to say something like "that will make things interesting..." I came into the class thinking it would be suitable for a "never-ever" like me. After all, it is the BRC, not the Advanced Rider's course... With that expectation and the self confidence that I am a good athlete, a quick learner and my brain rot seemed very stable this spring, I settled into my chair and opened my book. Filling out my name card, I noticed our table of 3 women and one man had chosen the name: the UpRights as our "study gang" At the first break, we shared stories about rides. They all had bikes, all had some experience riding. In fact, I soon learned that the other nine students all had bikes, all had "seat time". That was the first clue that I was in over my head. During the break, I phoned my biker-chauffeur-honey and choked out the words: "I feel stupid... There is a lot of technical stuff, I don't know any of it..." But I didn't feel like quitting; I committed to the class to learn: "can I ride or can I not." That was my objective. I thought I didn't care about the endorsement, that I really just wanted to learn in the safety of BRC, with excellent coaches and somebody else's bike... At 9pm, we had gotten through the first 4o questions. There were 126 in the 50 page manual. I knew all the definitions, all the jargon, all the pre-ride TCLOCS checklists, the start up and shut down protocols, the ever essential riding strategy: SEE (Search Evaluate Execute...). I had read the MSF (motorcycle safety foundation) training manual twice, highlighted all the important stuff. I found their training videos on line. I was well versed and sounded like I could do it, the instructor was feeling more confident in me. I disclosed my brain injury to him. He stated that he would make sure I understood the exercises, that we got rest breaks. I was concerned about my stamina and my gaiting/balance when I get tired. At the end of the class, I went to my hotel room hoping to sleep well and wake ready for the range...the second error in my seemingly well planned weekend. It was a warm night, no fresh air, a noisy heat pump out side, I didn't bring my coveted pillows and my sweet man couldn't join me. I went to sleep promising myself to make it to the range early, get a feel for the bikes, breathe in ~ breathe out and take the first steps to live a dream... Just be aware in this story, if there is one thing to know about me, it is how stubborn I am; remember, "love~kills~slowly". . . more to come
peace ~ ell