The other day I decided to put the "rubber to the road" as all the cool motorcyclists say and ride the bike to Salem. It was a hot day for Oregon, about 98 degrees, and I was wearing all my gear like a good little girl. My driveway is just long enough to pick up momentum before turning onto the road and I live in the country where there's not a lot of traffic. I hit the end of the gravel driveway and start to make my turn onto the road when I notice a truck coming down the road. I slam on my brakes and the Beast comes to a sudden stop. Unfortunately, not before I put my left leg down to catch it. The foot peg slams into my calf and I nearly drop the Beast. It's then I again re-evaluate my mode of transportation and consider if I were on my last bike, the F650GS, I'd not have almost 600 pounds of bike to pick up and try to manage. Damn my ego!
Today I'm sporting an awesomely sized battle wound bruise on my left calf. It's a reminder to stop being an idiot on the bike, a precursor to things that will come if I don't start paying attention and stop acting like a girl when I ride.
But, oh what good stories I can tell simply based on my stupidity.