2001-09-05 - 3:23 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Like a Virgin", Madonna

It has come to my attention that some of you are worrying that the lack of journal updates is due to a dirt-bike injury.

Naw. It's just the nice weather.

That, plus a determination to make my house nice, seeing as how it's almost completely restored from the flood. And also, having too much to write about and not knowing where to start. I shall endeavor to address that last issue by discussing variations of exactly one topic in this entry (a rarity, I know) and just posting the damn thing.

No breaks, no, but I got a few bruises. Once I hugged a tree, and later fell off the back of the bike while in mid-air. But I'm fine. My rollerblading injuries (road rash! woo!) were worse.

So, we got out to the riding place on Saturday, and there were all these little kiddies there. It was hysterical. A little boy on a tiny dirt bike, and a little girl on a quad, a couple dads, and a few other kids just standing around poking sticks in the dirt.

I stood and watched them for a while. I couldn't figure out if the little girl was having a good time or not. She was scowling, but it could have been concentration. Plus I am fascinated with miniature things, so miniature dirt bikes falls into that category (see this photo to see what I mean).

So, to give the kids some space to ride, Poindexter elects to take me off onto a new trail I haven't been on before.

Um.

I was hestitant, because I hadn't gotten my comfort level back from the previous week, but I didn't want to worry about running over cute little children. So off we went.

First, we hit deep ruts. The trick here is to either stay out of the ruts or get in them. I'm not good enough to stay out of them, so of course I ended up slipping into one. Then I was all wigged out because of how wobbly it feels to ride in a rut (you're constantly slipping up the sides and dropping back in, which makes me feel out of control).

We get out of the ruts, much to my relief, and start heading uphill into the trees.

It was beautiful in there. Sunlight filtering through pines. Narrow twisty trail. Unfortunately I lost momentum on the hill, and when I tried to get going again, gave it too much throttle and the bike jumped ahead. I couldn't keep the bike on the narrow trail, so next thing you know I'm headed straight for a small pine tree, less than 6 inches in diameter.

I had a split second to think

I'm going to hit that tree

before the bike edges by the tree and I, well, don't, since I've let go of the handlebars and somehow gotten off the seat as well. The bike continues into the forest another foot or so and falls over. I'm left standing with my arms around a tree, and a few scrapes and future bruises on my right arm.

Poindexter comes running down the hill and laughs.

He picks up my bike, looks at how the impact of hitting the ground has twisted the clutch around the handlebar, and says, "Good thing we brought some tools."

It ended up that he could move the clutch back into position with a few well-placed kicks, but he had to ride it up the hill because when I tried to get going again, the bike rolled backwards and I dropped it again. Sigh.

My problem is that I'm not yet completely used to telling the bike what I want it to do. I need a lot of practice. I need to remember that it's my HANDS that do the work, and I do NOT have to keep my feet on the pegs, I can put them down to give myself balance and essentially WALK the bike where I want it to go, just giving it enough throttle to keep it going.

After this, I'm freaked out. We get to a downhill-uphill thingie (like a ditch) and I stand at the top and refuse to go down. Poindexter said, "It's easier than the uphill you just did." I replied, "I believe you, but I'm can't do it." So he rode the bike downhill and uphill for me and I went on foot, thankyouverymuch.

So anyway. Later on, the kiddies are gone, and I'm doing little jumps. There's a steep hill that lets you catch some air at the top. I'm doing pretty well and having fun -- jumping a foot or so into the air.

Then Poindexter starts giving me some advice and I try to follow it.

(His advice is sound, of course, but I'm not yet in a position where I can follow it properly.)

The advice involved giving a little more throttle at the top of the hill to give you more push for the jump. Unfortunately, I didn't throttle at the proper time, or throttled too much, or something. So I'm in the air, and the front end of the bike just keeps going UP (like a wheelie), and I'm scared it's going to fall on me so I just jump off the back of the bike. Or something. I'm not really sure what happened.

The bike wasn't anywhere near falling on me. It hit the ground, kept going, hit a patch of grass and fell over.

Meanwhile, Poindexter is laughing. "That was COOL!" he says. Then, "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

I mumbled a wobbly "No" and whimpered a bit, and he hugged me and patted me and reassured me and said, "Poor thing", and he kept laughing. Because it was funny.

Apparently this is all par for the course. I was terrified, because it all seemed rather dangerous to me at first (I fell off, for godsakes). But in retrospect it appears that I did the right thing. The bike is meant to take knocks and falling-overs. And it means that when something goes wrong or I hit something I can't deal with, I can just hop off (it's all of six inches from my foot pegs to the ground, plus another foot if I'm jumping) and I'll be all right.

I hope so, anyway. The whole thing made me especially fearful and less willing to try new things. I want to backtrack and practice the basics more. I spent the rest of the afternoon practicing in the ruts and rolling up the hill instead of jumping.

I somehow managed to knock my knees a lot (where I grip the bike between them), and I have a bunch of bruises on the insides of my legs. I was really sore and stiff on Monday, too. But I feel better now and I'm all excited about riding again next weekend.

My brother was telling Poindexter that he brags to people what a cool couple we are. I asked him today what's so cool about us, and he said, "All you do is shoot and ride dirt bikes. How cool is that?"

Hee.

Poindexter things it's the juxtaposition that's interesting. We like shooting and dirt bikes, but we're city mice who like fine dining.

So, the neat thing about the trails is that they're just a narrow track through what is mainly untamed, untouched land. Meadows and forest. I suppose the only reason it hasn't yet been developed is because it's directly under a landing/takeoff path for Dulles airport.

I'm constantly startling butterflies up off the trail in front of me (who in turn startle me by flying in my face). In one spot I saw a huge dragonfly type thing that just kept hovering over the same spot. There are wildflowers everywhere. I'm astonished at the sheer variety of plants I'm seeing, some of which I recognize as full-grown six-foot versions of weeds that I've yanked out of my garden. It's all very pretty and fascinating to me.

I think many people generally see dirt bikers as destructive assholes who tear up the land. Some of them are, and I don't like them either. But riding on fire roads and trails (very similar to well-traveled hiking or horseback trails) -- and KEEPING to the trail -- is also a really nice (if noisy) way to see some beautiful natural scenery. Then you get someone like me who's fascinated by the bugs and weeds in her own backyard and it's even more interesting.

Looking back over this entry, I really don't know what's gotten into me. At nearly thirty, I thought I'd gotten too old to be doing activities which commonly result in scrapes and bruises. I feel like I'm about ten years old.

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