Hello? Certain Death? It's David Calling

*** continued from previous post ***


I'm sure I've been in worse situations on a bike, but honestly, I couldn't remember when.

I've been in places where the path was no more than a goat track, and walked the bike as best I could until I fell off the trail and had bike tip over the edge and land on top of me. That was fun. Also while riding trail, I've hit slimy, moss covered logs at the wrong angle and been shot off the road into the brush and trees faster than you could say 'howdy-doody'.

I've hit patches of oil and diesel in a blind curve at 60 mph. I've been caught in freak storms in the Cascades. Played 'run for your life' with a funnel cloud east of Yakima one notable spring day - where no tornado should ever be - and with a queasy stomach prayed that we would make it to shelter before the thing caught up with us.

We blasted around corners on Chinook, making our way down from Paradise on Mt. Rainier and had to thread my way between a herd of Roosevelt Elk – close enough I could have reached out and touched their hindquarters - hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t spook and crush us while we were in the middle of the pack.

One time, in a moment of sheer stupidity in my youth, I took a turn WAY to fast on a motorcycle, and with shorts and a tank top, (but I was wearing a helmet!), rode the bugger straight into a patch of nettles and blackberry vines with enough time to contemplate how much it was going to hurt.

I've crashed, wrecked, ate the asphalt, and sported lovely, lovely road-rash more times than I care to remember.

I will not hesitate to admit that I was never more nervous . . . oh hell . . . I was never more scared than I was right then. It wasn't just me this time. I had your Mom to think about.

And I will admit something else. I say this next part with all sincerity because I know you'll understand completely: It was a most excellent rush!

*** the journey continues ***