Now five years later on, you’ve got the world at your feet.

This entry was originally posted on Tuesday, March 24th, 2009 at 11:07

Among my many unwise purchases are counted such things as: a modified sports car, another modified sports car with a seized engine, multiple laptop computers, an off-brand plasma TV, and a brand-new Suzuki GS500 motorbike.

This one:
jesus-500

And I love it. Lots. So much.

A month or so after I got it, I was in a cocktail bar (that much is true) when I got talking to the muddler behind the bar about his plans for the weekend. He said he was going to get back on a bike for the first time in years and I mentioned I had a bike and he offered me the three rules his father had passed down to him, and that he lived by. They were:

  1. Protection: Always wear a helmet and your leathers. Always.
  2. Assumption: Assume everyone in a car is trying to kill you and wants you dead.
  3. Reaction: Never, ever act out in anger. If someone cuts you off, don’t raise the middle finger or shake your head, just wave and smile at them through your visor.

I always knew the first rule, but had I known the second two I am sure I would have been able to avoid an incident that had occurred the previous week.  See, I had been riding at the speed limit and someone behind me, in a hotted up Holden Commodore, wanted me to go faster.  He kept speeding up to within a foot/30cm or so of me and then slowing down.  Then when he had a chance to pass me, he did so with two wheels in my lane, and attempted to hit me when he swerved back into the lane in front.

So I gave him the finger.

Which meant that he jumped on the anchors and tried to slam the back of his car into the front of my bike. It didn’t happen, thank gosh, but he then continued on up the road and stopped and waited for me.  As I got closer he spun up his rear tyres, did a clumsy 180 degree spin and aimed himself at me.  I tore open the throttle on the bike and flew away, darting into the first street I recognised in hope I could pull into someone’s driveway and seek refuge.  So I did.  After five minutes of no pursuit I thought it safe to ride home, and as I double-backed I got to see  two tracks that the Holden Commodore had left all over a grassy childrens playground. At the end of the tracks was a smashed up car and a very solid tree.

I also got to see a fatherly figure trying not to beat the ever living shit out of the Commodore’s backward cap wearing driver. He was the very model of controlled rage.

So, in summary: Protection, Assumption, Reaction. Remember them when you are on the road.

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