Fear

Every time I hear these lyrics: “They say what goes up Must come down But don’t let me fall,” I think of the dual sport ride my pops took me on once. Actually, it wasn’t a ride, it was an all-out race, and we were on the SP.

Looking at it now, it was crazy but we were hardcore, the two of us, and we toughed out the rain and the mud together on two wheels with my boots on the rear pegs and my gloves wrapped around the gaps in his chest protector.  That year, I was atleast 6, the Alligator dual sport during Bike Week started under clear conditions. We ripped through city streets with purpose, following more of the crowd than the map.

American Motorcyclist - Jun 1992 - Google Books Result

After lunch, we hit the woods and the rain rolled in. I remember the ride taking an unexpected turn and I experienced my first fear of crashing. I was not in control, so I started crying out of frustration. Pops pulled the bike over in the middle of a long stretch of wide open dirt road section. He turned to face me and grabbed me by the shoulders. Bikes were flying by because the race was almost over.

“Do you trust me?” He yelled through his helmet. I nodded and squeaked out, “Yes.”

“You trust me.” He said it this time. I nodded again and burst out, “Yes!”

“I would never let us crash,” he told me. “Ok?”

“Ok.”

While I may have trust issues, we never crashed.

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One thought on “Fear

  1. Wow! Where did you find those pixs? We rode the wheels off that SP until the stator quit. Could it have had something to do with that Alligator Dualsport or the Pumkin Run? Sold that SP to Chris Kivacaskus (sp) for $200 bucks.
    Those rides were like 60-100 miles. Two up on an SP? With only beer and lunch after the ferry ride! That’s the real meaning of hard core.

    PD

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