![[Bullet]](cbrnew.jpg)
Initially, I only used that Hurricane to get around UCLA, and cruise around west Los Angeles on nice days. A few months later, I found out about the mass exodus of bikes that go up Angeles Crest Highway every weekend. After scaring myself half to death up there, I told myself that I needed to learn how to ride. My plan was to buy a leather riding suit and enroll in a riding school. Looking in the local Recycler Classifieds, I found a two piece Fieldsheer suit, practically new, for only $300. I still use that same suit to this very day, and as you'll find out, that suit was definitely one of the best investments I've ever made.
I can still recall exactly what happened. I was riding about 5 miles south of Newcomb's, through the shady and twisty area of the crest. As I entered a right hander at about 60, I exited wide. I could have leaned it over a little more to tighten up the turn, but I didn't... maybe I was lazy, or I just wasn't concentrating. Whatever happened, I was still well within my lane. Unfortunately, some gravel was washed into the road by the rain a few weeks earlier, right where I was riding, making both of my wheels wash out at once. It was the strangest sensation, to be sitting on the bike one moment, and then laying on your side at 60 mph, watching your bike slide in front of you, kicking up pebbles and fairing bits onto your face shield. As I was sliding across the road, I began tumbling, and somehow stopped before hitting the canyon wall across the road. At that moment I saw my bike bounce off of that canyon wall, and back onto the road with plastic bits flying everywhere.
Despite the mess I made on the road, I miraculously was unhurt. A forest ranger soon appeared, and wrote up a report on my accident. He said that there was already a flatbed tow truck in the area, picking a bike from an earlier accident. A couple of my friends went to ask the truck driver to pick up my bike too. When the truck finally arrived a hour later, there was a scuffed but decent looking FZR on the back. Tragically, the guy riding it earlier slid into a guardrail, and died when his head was wedged underneath it.
Riding back to La Canada in that truck, I felt like I got away with something I shouldn't have. Here I was, with only a couple of scratches... there were two bikes on the back of this truck, and I was the only passenger inside.
It took me a couple of years to get another bike after that. To be honest, that incident scared the heck outta me. But after thinking through that experience, I realized that the accident was not the road's fault, nor the bike's fault, nor anything else except for my own; it was purely my own for not scanning the road properly. That crash, including five more I had on my hawk since then, have all been attributed to "pilot error".
Despite my scare up on the Crest, it's still my favorite place to ride. With the fresh air, scenery, smooth curvy roads, and friendly riders, I can hardly find an excuse not to ride on the weekends. One unfortunate thing about the Crest however, is that too many people just plain go too fast. There comes a point where a rider has to assume things, such as whether the road is clean, or whether oncoming traffic is crossing over the double yellow, or how fast the turn can be taken. I think this is why so many people crash up there. And that is why I crashed there too; I assumed the road was clean when I ran over that strip of gravel. I remember hearing a statistic somewhere that stated an average of twenty people a year die up in the Angeles National Forest, and that includes everyone: motorcyclists, hikers, drivers, murders, etc. I hope I haven't scared you, but this is definitely something to keep in mind the next time you feel like letting loose on the throttle a bit. Please be careful and "ride your own ride".