My First Motorcycle Wreck

My First Motorcycle Wreck
Why does a person decide to ride a bike? Some people will say it is very dangerous, other will consider it reckless; for someone it will just be uncomfortable comparing with a car. I did not belong to either of these groups, as motorbike was my dearest dream for many years. I dreamed about it when I was a small boy. When bikers passed along the road with that terrible and deafening roar of engines people tended to turn away and curse them for the noise they created. But I did not do that. I dreamed about a heavy bike , the speed it is able to produce, the wind in my ears and the feeling of flight that is possible to experience only if you ride a motorbike. I did not consider them dangerous at all: in fact a bike is much more stable that it is considered to be, and statistics proves that cars are more often involved in all the crashes that occur than bikes. Besides, by no means a bike is uncomfortable. The only inconvenience is connected with weather: you will not enjoy your ride if it rains or snows. Speaking about recklessness… well, that time I did not think about it too much.

I grew up, I earned enough money and my dream came true. My choice was Suzuki GSX-R750 bike, beautiful and powerful. It was a real revelation for me. I thought that I knew everything about speed. My new metal friend proved me completely wrong. It was an arrow, a rocket. A bike of this type is difficult to notice on the road, you can only hear it. So, GSX-R750 became the embodiment of my dream. I cannot describe all my feelings about this machine. Not that I loved it, I adored it. I washed it every day, dusted the mirrors, and did not let everyone touch it. My first trip was wonderful. There are no words in the world to describe the way I felt. I did not dare to use all its potential but I speeded my bike rather well. I had experience of driving a bike before, so it was not rather hard. Still, the idea that I should try my bike and make it show me everything it is capable of did not let me sleep. I was aware of the fact my Suzuki was a sport bike so I sometimes dreamt about visiting a trek and let my bike show its potential to all extent. Still I was also very much afraid of it.

One day I was coming back home. Of course since I bought my Suzuki I stopped using buses as a transport means. Why should I not? I became the proud owner of the best motorbike in the world in the long run! I suppose I had the right to be proud and self-confident, having such a power in my hands. So, I was returning home. It was a long and hard day, full of stress and tension. That does not mean I was inattentive. Of course, I checked who was behind me, on my right and on my left. There was only one thing I did not check. I did not have enough time to see who was in front of me… There was someone, in fact. To rub salt into the wound the driver of the car with which I crashed was a girl, who got her driving license only the previous day. I am not an experienced driver, but my driving license was already one month old! Still, it was very sad. We crashed, it was my entire fault. The nightmare began. First, my wonderful motorbike became beautiful no more. The whole frontal side of it was broken and I could only see zeros in front of my eyes. Zeros of money I had to pay for my bike repair, for her car repair (it was a new Toyota!), and for many other things I could not remember at once. I could not see and hear very well; the girl apparently shouted at me. The only thing I remember is that I was taken to the hospital and my Suzuki (everything that remained after the crash) was taken somewhere else. I got an advice not to bother about it anymore as it was cheaper to buy a new bike than to repair this one. That hardly could improve my state, which was terrible by the way. I had my limbs broken, brain concussion and something else I was not aware of.

I spent two months in a hospitable and left it at once leaving there almost all my money. Do you think I gave up and forgot about my bike? If you do, you are very wrong. Yeah, I had to gather a pretty large sum of money in order to repair Suzuki. I spent two more months gathering money, working really hard. I arranged everything; I found people who would do everything necessary not that expensive as in other places. In three days I had to go there and had my bike as new as it was. Yeah…. I had to… If nothing else happened. The day before I was robbed. My wallet was stolen with all the money, my driving license and my credit card.

This story does not have a happy end. I lost everything. My bike was never repaired. I take a bus to go home now. I am a mere, a humble pedestrian of our big city. There is nothing left in me of the former proud owner of the new Suziki bike. Neither do I curse bikers when I see them, nor do I rejoice. My feelings are different to describe, but I am definitely not indifferent towards bikes. Maybe someone who directs and governs our life in this world just did not want me to have one, or may be, theoretically, he is just not fond of bikers.

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