Ok,here we go....
Back around my late 20's/early thirties I was still riding street.One day,having thrown the RZ into a ditch,I decided to follow it in and buggered up my back.It was nothing serious but anyone who has ever pulled all the muscles in their back can attest to what it feels like.I could lay down,partially stand up, but sitting was excruciating.
The next day the wife screwed off shopping with one of her hen friends,leaving me laying there staring at the ceiling.Naturally,at this point,a friend calls and asks if I want to go dirt riding.When I explained the situation to him he said-cripes,when did you become such a damn pussy?Naturally,in those days,that was all I needed to hear so I crab walked out to the truck and headed out to his place-sitting sort of sideways in the seat.
Once I got there,he had to help me on the bike-an old xl250(he was riding his TT500)
After I figured out the starting drill(choke part on,half throttle,hold your head just the right way)and tested the controls-good lever pressure and all that-off we went.
We were following an old rail bed and when we got to the first stop where it crossed a road I hit both brakes and had absolutely nothing.Madly gearing down and dragging my feet I cruised across the road and coasted to a stop farther down.Riding up alongside he says-oh yeah,which reminds me,it's got no brakes.
Anyway,once on the bike my back didn't feel too bad(unless I hit bump,then the empty shocks would send a "pleasant" jolt up my spine) so we spent most of the day cruising around.This ride was largely responsible for my transition to dirt a year later.
On the way back,I was cruising along behind him keeping a decent distance when we got to a part of the rail bed that had about a 10' drop on either side.
At this point,his rear wheel locks solid(his swingarm nut had fallen off and the shaft worked it's way out until the whole back end twisted sideways,locking the rear brake) and he starts slewing all over the trail such that I had to guess at which side to go.
Dragging my feet of course,I motored by on the left just as he slewed to the right.
We eventually got the shaft back in and he held it in with he heel as we headed back to his place.
On the way home,slurping an XL of Tim Horton's finest halved with a bottle of tylenol,the pain was so intense I was absolutely beside myself.
Regardless of this,I was thinking-well,if nothing else,here I was,layed up in bed,and yet still managed to go riding in the dirt with an old clapped out bike with no brakes-my(relatively new to me at the time) wife should be quite impressed with my studliness-you would think that anyway.
Instead, I got home and got out of the truck and stumbled toward the house bent at about a 90 degree angle where she was waiting on the step-no doubt anxious to hear of my manly exploits.
Instead,I got called a moronic,freakin' idiot and was drug down to the bedroom and pitched on the bed face down while she exited slamming the door behind her.
So,my first real dirt ride on a pos bike coupled with the sudden realization that the honeymoon was over makes the scariest bike I'd ever ridden the XL250.Nothing else even comes close.
