10-foot Tall And Bulletproof

Andy makes allowance for seniority.

Given the aim of all motorcycle riding is to gather jollies while keeping the bike between you and the ground, it gets complicated when the ground is rough and dirty. I find I learn more around the point at which the chances of communing with Terra Bloody Firm As is starting to become more likely than not. I’m a well-practiced creek swimmer and ground hugger.

Unfortunately, it hurts these days and recovery is slow. Greyhaired bodies don’t bounce that well. The skills required for loose, hard riding are the ones learnt when we thought we were tenfoot tall and bulletproof…I’d say it’s around the age of 15.

Right now, every time I try to lift with my left arm I’m reminded of a simple carpark tumble I took in NZ a few weeks ago...on the first day of the ride! It’s the sort of damage many people do falling off their own feet in the supermarket carpark, but at least I have the distinction of falling offa motosickle. It’s brought getting hurt back into clear focus. Naturally, I pushed on and continued our two-week visit to the south island. If I’d been decapitated I would’ve tucked my head under my arm and pushed on. There was no way I was gonna miss hooning about the Land Of The Wrong White Crowd.

A few thoughts