Read Book, Saved Bacon.

Thanks be to Keith Code, hallowed be thy skill. Glory be! For his teachings on overcoming survival reactions has saved my bacon today. I’m ok, I’m home. I deserve to level up and become a Level 15 biker chica on a Hayabusa. I saw Goose today. He waved so hard he almost fell off his Concours 14. =D Blessed be! Today was a fine day to be out there riding. I will elaborate on my ‘adventure’ later, I have a fender eliminator to put on my bike.

LATER THE SAME DAY:
So, I was on my way back from my ride with my husband, I had followed him to his work, then to the mall to pick up my repaired Kanji necklace and to the hardware store to pick up some essentials for the upcoming suspension tuning on The Fat Lady. BTW, it’s strange to walk into Jared’s in full race leathers. I even got kudos from a guy whose question of what I ride was answered by me with a nonchalant, it’s-really-no-big-deal “Hayabusa.” His jaw dropped and all he could say was: “DAY-AMN!” I smiled and told him that’s what I say every time I get on it. Anyhoo, I decide to get on the Interstate on the way home, and take the right off the three-lane highway onto the onramp. It’s the standard downhill, straight kind that comes with practically every overpass. No biggie. I had been riding it moderately-hard during my 95-mile outing to pay attention to what my suspension was doing, but nothing wickedly squiddy or anything like that. When there’s nobody around, I like practicing hanging off in these turns, because of the ability to really get my lean on and accelerate out, and that’s what I did. Nothing unusual there, either. I’ve done this turn countless times before. But right about after I hit the apex both tires started sliding towards the outside, which was a really messed up feeling, since it was totally unexpected. I thought to myself that I can’t really be going all that fast. What the hell? I’ve slid both tires before, but nothing like that. Where before, it could be called a baby drift, this was a little more… shall we say ‘pronounced’. My life did not flash before my eyes, however, I got a short mental video clip of me low-siding it off the left edge into the grass and all the way down the embankment, coming to an expensive, yet largely unhurt (minus the ego) halt about two thirds of the way down, with The Fat Lady coming to rest further ahead of me and further down, almost by I-20’s westbound shoulder. I smoothly roll on more throttle, the rear regains traction practically immediately, the Fat Lady holds her line, then straightens up and we ‘missile’ it down to the bottom of the ramp. I don’t even know how fast I was going, all I know is that when I merged I was doing about 75, 10 miles over speed limit, which is appropriate for this time of day on this particular stretch of road, unless you want to get run over. I’m still trying to figure out what just happened. No, I know the ‘what’, I’m trying to pin down the ‘why’. As I’m mulling over the possibilities, something else dawns on me. I didn’t even have to fight the impulse to chop the throttle or get on the brakes. Yeah, my heart was momentarily in my throat, the adrenaline started pumping (yeah, I kinda dig that), but my hand never so much paused or hesitated; it was one smooth reaction to something unexpected. And it was the right one.

Keith Code is my hero. Glory be. I’ll slam-hug the dude if I ever get a chance to meet him (California Superbike School, anybody? LOL). He’s saved my ass again!!!!!

Recommended Reading: A Twist Of The Wrist II by Keith Code



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