Another One Bites the Dust

As the Tornado and I grind to a halt, I am at least displeased because I'm in a awkward, tangled heap on the tarmac in the middle of the road, with the smattering of my shattered rear view mirror. I pick myself up before it occurs to me that I could be hurt. I'm pretty horrified to look back at the twisted wreck of my beautiful red Tornado. Once the initial horror subsides, I'm banging my helmet, angry with myself for making this mess. I signed the rental contract, agreeing to pay for any damage to the bike, but on the assumption that I wouldn't drive her into the ground. A few moments later, that feeling subsides, and I'm left with the thrill of having crashed a bike. It was painfully unnecessary, but it was really, really cool. Finally, I find some pain in my right knee. So there's at least a handful emotions that I'm capable of.

The ride had started well. I followed my Peruvian biker pal Samar down some broad winding roads and U-turns, eventually making a turn to reveal the awesome view of snow capped mountains behind the Sacred Valley. I'm having a really great time in my little helmet world, singing to myself, Highway to the Dangerzone, and other situation-appropriate numbers. It's much the same as childishly racing the Thames Clippers and wake riding on my beloved RIB.

Photo: southamerica.amateurtraveler.com

Back in town, I'm a little nervous of unpredictable Peruvian children, dogs, and stupid people. I slide my right hand's fingers to hover over the front brake, just in case I really need it.

Shortly thereafter, I find I've lost the back wheel. For a long fraction of second, I'm perfectly helpless as the Tornado comes down on my right side and I hear the sound of the the mirror shattering. I'm already standing in horror and anger by the time Samar comes racing back. He asks if I used the front brake. I reply "No, just the back". After a few moments of thought, it's all too obvious and I change my mind: "Nah, I touched the front brake". I've been told many times not to use the front brake, but I didn't wholly appreciate that that's because it's a suicide lever.

We pick up the bike, and I'm relieved to see most of it springing back into shape. Despite an ache in my knee, I just want to get back on and finish the last five minutes. Back at the shop, I'm concerned about the cost of the damage, but smiling anyway. I walk away, knee still aching, but otherwise happy with myself. And with just fifty bucks of damage, that was definitely worth it.