Dirty minds save skin

All the better to toss you on your butt with, my dear.

When the front wheel broke free in the right hand turn, I knew I was having fun.

It was morning, a cold, above-freezing start to what would I was sure would be a glorious day to work to ride and ride to work. The sun was shining. The Blast was chugging like a freshman frat boy at his first formal mixer, God was in his garage and all was good in the world, except for that damn dirt.

The past few months of lousy weather have left behind dangerous dross and detritus ready to ruin any SOBs day.  It lurks at every corner, in every intersection, along the road near the curb and shoulder and at the center line.

Remember when we had all that snow and VDOT and the local crews were busy throwing down dirt and salt? Did you wonder where all that grit went when the snow left? On the road's surface and, right now, under the front tire of a 35o-lb, single-cylinder, 500-cc hammer of pain about toss my sorry arse solidly upon the pavement.

I should have used my SIPDE -- scan, indentify, predict, decide, execute.  I need to SEE sharp lest I be flat -- Scan, Evaluate, Execute-- and I know that. Except I was thinking about how cool it was to have a decent day for a change and thinking about that new mesh jacket I got for $42 including shipping and wishing it was warm enough to wear it, to check it out and thinking about cutting the sleeves off an old blue jean jacket to make a "cut" so I could put on some patches I'd been collecting in sort of a return to my old Harley days and thinking about how stupid it is that I wouldn't be able to wear it into a bar because it's too much like club colors although I would certainly never joint a club that would have me and ....

It's amazing how fast your mind can clear of crap when you're in a front-tire skid.  From a billion competing thoughts to one, a simple word often used to describe the south end of your dog making a deposit on the neighbor's lawn.

Oh, I said. Oh, oh, oh.

I didn't panic. I loosened my grip on the handlebars, let them sway a little and looked through my turn. I was careful not to roll on or off the throttle suddenly. I knew how to do this because I'm an idiot and have had the experience before. The tire came back into line and my heart came out of my throat. I rode off chastened and paying attention.

So, take advice from Mr. Safety who damn near scratched his plastic bike: Be careful in the corners out there, at least until we get a solid couple of days of rain to get the grit off the road. And be careful after the rain because it washes gravel into the streets.

Hey, it's always something.