That first time
CAN YOU REMEMBER the very first time you climbed aboard a motorcycle? In the old days, it was invariably on a hot, smelly, kinda-maintained paddock bike someone else owned – being entrusted with it alone was a big enough deal, let alone the mental overload of actually making it go. And stop. I chose to stop the first bike I ever rode by grabbing a handful of front brake, getting it all locked up in the gravel, then skidding down said gravel on my helmeted face. Lucky about the helmet, because my pillion-riding cousin wasn’t wearing one. I remember being worried about that as he slid over the top of me, but my body took the wrath of our first-gear crash. I haven’t been off bikes ever since, though I like to…