motorcyclemeditation.com

One of those heartstopping moments on the motorcycle over the weekend, came and went. Unbeknown to me until last night, staying on in the mind. Like a bomb survivor’s nightmare, the episode replaying itself in dreams, a way of making sense of things.

On the motorcycle, pulling out of a roundabout, surfaces wet from light rain but feeling secure. Opening the throttle. Motorcycle surging, front wheel barely on the road. Speed up to eighty in a heartbeat. Just at the wrong moment, about a hundred yards in front, a car pulling out to overtake.

A lot of decisions to make at once, no time to think. First instinct, brake don’t swerve. Not just that, brake hard. This not a good moment for pussyfooting. The situation probably containing amongst the most difficult for a human brain to compute, namely, relative speed of car and motorcycle, the warping effect that hard acceleration has on judgment of distances, ditto that of hard deceleration from braking. All such computations complex enough in circumstances of smooth flow, here compounded by vicious disruption to smooth flow if the car and motorcycle collide.

Plus fear. Yet the fear offset by its twin, a sudden detachment. As if the scene playing out before you is happening to someone else, in slow motion. A life rescuing phenomenon, subject only to, don’t freeze. The antidote to freezing, having something automatic to do, something practiced, whilst your brain sorts itself out. In this case, emergency braking.

On the motorcycle the calipers grabbing the front two disks with ferocious power. The motorcycle diving on its front suspension, pouring weight into the part that needs it, digging the front wheel into the road. Extreme discipline required here, keep the motorcycle straight, in this case pointing straight at the danger, resist the urge to shy away, the front wheel will start to slide, you’ll keep going straight anyway, but this time on your side and much faster.

Just like the practice, squeezing the brakes harder and harder, the effect progressive. The balance of the motorcycle staying true, nary a hint of deviation from the line, engineering’s payoff. Suddenly, all danger gone, ten yards to spare. One more job to do, pull past the car, either side will do, don’t want anyone behind to rear end me after that braking.

All so quick as to be forgotten. Until returned to in dreams.