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Written by Dean Devito
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Wednesday, 26 October 2011 13:08 |
 Crashing is a humbling experience that always makes you feel Stupid…anyone that has ever fallen off of their motorcycle understands this. This fact, combined with the pain and expense of a get off is the reason we work to hone skills and avoid trouble while we are out there riding.
However, gravity is a stubborn opponent, and sometimes she wins, and when she does we are forced to pay the Stupid Tax. What is the Stupid Tax? It is not the kind of tax that throws the Tea Party into sudden cardiac arrest, but rather the kind that serves as a not so gentle reminder that we are not made of titanium and that our actions have consequences. Here is my story of the last time the Tax Man came calling.
Sunday morning greeted us with perfect weather and the opportunity to get on our dual sport bikes for a lap of North Georgia’s finest forest roads and two track trails. As is my habit, the night before the bike was checked out, tire pressure set, and my riding gear laid out for the 6am wake up call. The bike was ready, and my gear was ready. The only part missing in this equation is also the most unpredictable; the rider. Having spent the last few months off of my dual sport due to work and family obligations, it took a few miles before I felt right at home in the saddle of my trusty DR-Z 400. There I was leading the group of three into the woods as we were taking it easy on a 40 mph winding country road. There was no real pace, nor was there a pressure to go fast as we were just riding. That didn’t seem to matter, however, as the Tax Man came to collect from me in the middle of a right-hander on a road I know well.
The crash seemed to be over before it started as the rear end let go as I rolled on the throttle while exiting the corner. I was left asphalt surfing on my tummy as the DR-Z perilously slid away from me on her right side. Seems the rear DOT knobby had its bond with the Georgia road broken suddenly, leaving me to make my own bond with it. Why it happened is a mystery, but as the MSF teaches on day one of the Basic Rider Course there is seldom a single cause for a bike crash.
Was I too fast for conditions? Perhaps, but our pace was nothing that would have aroused suspicion from a man in blue and one I have run dozens of times on the same road. Was the condition of the tire to blame? Well, it is a half worn DOT knobby, but far from being a baloney skin so it is not perfect but has service left in it. Was there debris in the road? I do not recall seeing any as I scanned the corner, but as we inspected the corner for clues we found a crushed can of Copenhagen that I may have tracked over.
Regardless of the things I could blame, it was definitely a problem with the nut holding the handlebars: me. I knew the overall condition of my bike was good, and I was sober, rested, and geared up. Nevertheless I made a mistake somewhere that was going to force me to pay the Stupid Tax; not to mention the embarrassment of being “that guy” that wads during a Sunday morning jaunt.
 I believe the culprit was, as the MSF teaches, a combination of factors. The DR-Z was ready, and I was not riding over my head, but it had been a while since I had set astride my DR-Z as I have been paying most of my attention to my Stelvio with sticky street tires. Maybe, I didn’t give the little bike enough respect and failed to heed her own limitations, or I simply missed a hazard in my scanning of the road surface. None of that mattered, though, as I had fallen off and now I had to pay the Tax Man.
Physically I was OK but couldn’t shake a sore shoulder regardless of Advil intake. There was also a small piece of rash where my jacket slid up as I did my best Pete Rose impersonation. However, I was thankful to be able to ride home.
Upon arriving home, quick inspection made it obvious that the Tax Man would visit my wallet as my helmet did scrape the asphalt and will be replaced. Also, my riding pants did their job keeping my lower extremities from harm, but given that the crash was on asphalt they will need replacing. My dual sport coat suffered a knock out blow as well as it has damaged stitching and would be tough to make safe again. All of the gear did its job, though, and I was able to ride away…albeit with my tail tucked between my legs a little bit.
Replacing the gear, nursing a nagging shoulder injury all while surviving the heckling from my buddies is how I will pay the “Stupid Tax” this time. I am happy to pay it though as it means that it was minor, and I am around to enjoy another ride…
Be safe out there, and avoid the Tax Man at all costs. Knowing your bike and inspecting it frequently, being comfortable with the route and your riding buddies are all ways to help keep the Tax Man off of your porch. Even though I had done these things my name still came up for collection. Shit happens.
I believe that since the “StupidTax Man” seldom announces his intention of coming to collect the only thing we can do is to make sure we are prepared with quality safety gear every time we ride. We can always buy new gear, yet it is the only thing riders have to prevent a larger physical tax collection if the Tax Man comes knocking on your door.
Ride safe, ride prepared and enjoy yourself out there…and do everything you can to avoid having to pay the Stupid Tax.
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Last Updated on Monday, 19 December 2011 10:13 |
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