Blades of Grass After working all day at Dairy Queen, I was once again released into the free world to have fun. I had planned to go riding on my friend's motorcycle. Although riding my friend's motorcycle was against my mother's wishes, I was going to do ride it anyway.
The time was four o'clock in the evening and I had just clocked out to go home. Brandon was waiting for me outside. He liked driving my '77' Chevy Blazer and I enjoyed riding his Yamaha 400 cc motorcycle. Although I had only ridden it once before, I was convinced that I was already a professional. I had grown up in a family that not only rode Harley's, but also had a part-time Business repairing them.
I saw myself as a biker riding in a gang down a lonely highway street with the wind in my hair and not a care in the world.
Brandon had told me to be careful and drive slowly, because the front tire was worn in one area and the bike was riding with a vibration. So I tied on my dew rag, put on my sunglasses, fired it up and then took off like a three-legged man at a butt-kicking contest.
Brandon followed me in my Blazer down Main Street and then we took off out of town. After we got out of town Brandon passed me, then hung a left towards the Ax House. I knew the road in front of me had a steep grade going down and then turning into a dirt road, but I didn't seem to care. I was riding at about 45 miles per hour and the front wheel was beginning to vibrate viciously. So I gripped on to the handlebars and leaned into the bike.
The feeling was like someone had pushed me from the left and then hit me in the chest with a baseball bat. The front tire had blown out and like a scared little child I grabbed onto the front brake and went crashing to the ground. I remember looking over my right shoulder as I slid down the road and seeing blades of grass passing by me like telephone poles on the highway. I was gouging at the asphalt and praying that one of the telephone pole like grass blades would bring me to a stop. After what seemed like an eternity I finally stopped. Frightened, I looked at the bike still running as if we were still on the road. The back tire was burning my right leg and I didn't have enough strength to kick the bike off of me. I noticed that Brandon was running towards me screaming "are you alright!" I couldn't even speak a word. I just stared at him like it was all a dream. He pulled the bike off of me and fortunately I got up as if nothing had happened, then I crawled into my Blazer and went to the hospital.
I swore I'd never ride a motorcycle again in my life, especially after having two cracked ribs, receiving second degree road rash on my right arm, and taking a chunk of skin the size of a silver dollar out of my right knee. But as stupid and careless as the act was, I have been on a bike since.