of all the corners that day, i deserved to crash in any number of them -- but not this one.
it was only after hitting heavy rain that we slowed down to a more subdued violation of corner entry warnings.... and it was only after unknowingly grazing a small patch of oil with my front tire that it suddenly washed out on me, in the middle of a nice right-hander on the hope-princeton hwy.
once again, in a flash, i have been reminded that control ... is an illusion. (for the 6th or 7th time)
as fun as it may be to slide along the pavement, tumbling all the way... catching the occasional glimpse of the pretty sparks as your bike grinds it's way into oncoming traffic, seeing the horrified looks on the peoples faces as they stop to ask if you're allright, to which you respond "get the fuck out of here!", it does suck when you piece it all together, and indeed...tho you may be shitting horseshoes in some regards, yer bike is still fuct right up and in an unrideable state.... howevermany hundreds of miles you have in between you and where you want to be. We won't even mention the ride back to town on the bitch seat of someone elses bike, leaving you plenty of time to contemplate the fuct-upedness of the whole situation, the going back to the trailer park and getting shit-hammered, or the long drive all the way back up the next day, only to pick up the bike and come all the way back down again - just take my word for it, it sucks... and only serves to strengthen the argument for a motard....