Ed Dropped His Bike

Ed teaches people like me to ride motorcycles. People like me are people who were not born between the legs of a biker chick, fathered by a Harley dude, and teethed on a leather fob tethered to a silver concho. So, most of us are people like me.

I had never ridden with Ed. But Ed is “the guy”. He can ride a motorcycle in circles so tight the floor boards hum “Born to be wild.” I had just gotten my big bike. It wobbled when I took off from a stop, and a few times, I had dropped it in a slow tight turn. I was a bit nervous when my buddy told me he invited Ed to ride with us on a day trip.

I knew that every error in my skills would be seen. Not only seen, but noticed boldly by a teacher of the ride. My errors would be magnified, my greenhorn status would be accentuated. There would be no way to fool this guy.

When I got to the meeting point early on the morning of the ride, Ed was there. I introduced myself. He admired my handle bars. I admired his. I told him I was thinking of buying some bars like his. He told me to take his bike for a spin. So, I did. I made a sweet u-turn and pulled out onto the road. I rode a half mile and made another tight u-turn and returned, moving the bike like a hot knife through butter and brought it to a stop in perfect form. I was proud.

Ed and I chatted awhile as the other riders arrived one by one. And then it happened. Ed got on his bike, made a tight u-turn and dropped the bike on it’s side. He rolled several feet and jumped up. He said loudly to the crowd, “And when this happens always turn off your engine.” He reached down and turned off the ignition and continued, “so the computer will reset.”

Then, he got back on his bike and completed the turn. I was no longer nervous about riding with Ed. Sometimes we all drop our bikes.