What Holds Us Together, Series 2, no. 15. Graphite, ink, colored pencil and cotton floss on paper, 4.25x6”. 2020
It's pouring rain. I'm on my fully-loaded Tiger, approaching the one of the most famous motorcycle roads in the world, called the "Tail of the Dragon", located in the Smoky Mountains on the border of North Carolina and Tennessee. As I ride into the first of the 11-mile stretch's legendary 318 curves, I pass a downed bike, with a tarp covering i t, two or three policemen hovering around, taking notes.
The rain gets more intense, and the tarmac turns into dirt: hard packed and gravelly at first, then it turns to mud. I continue on, but the rain starts making ruts in the road, which has narrowed, too. After managing to turn around, I make my way back to the beginning of the route. Where there was previously a "motorcycle resort" with a concrete parking lot, there is now a massive clearing filled with mud - no pavement anywhere. But despite my inexperience with riding on soft ground, I muscle the bike around with relative ease, navigating the tracks created by what look like tractor wheels.
The mud deepens as I push the Tiger up an incline... there is nowhere else to go. Finally the mud is so deep it consumes the bike, and me with it. I manage to un-suck myself from the quagmire, scooping fistfuls of brown goo from my boots, when I find myself at the top of a 15-foot promontory that juts up from the clearing. I jump down from it and I'm on pavement again. Looking up, I see my bike and someone else's sticking out of the mud like a sculpted body only half-freed from the material it's being hacked from. At the moment I think to myself, "how in god's name am I going to get it out of there?? It's over..."
I wake up.
I've never been to the Tail of the Dragon, but it'll be on my route as I head southwest. Many tell stories about it; it's even graced with a "Tree of Shame" decorated with bike parts and helmets from those who didn't quite make it through smoothly. I think my mistake came from conducting an image search for "Deal's Gap" and "Tail of the Dragon" back when I was researching the route west. First pics I saw were of crashed bikes...
After waking up, I happened on a blog entry written by a young woman who is just learning to ride. In it she describes how she, generally in the presence of others (including her boyfriend) drops her bike repeatedly and finally crashes it in a ditch on a road beyond her skill level.
I can relate to this desire to measure up and the insecurity stemming from what we believe to be others' prying, judging eyes. The need to respect the extreme danger in an act such as motorcycling is enormous - but we must also respect and be kind to ourselves. When I "undo" myself by over-thinking a situation, predicting the worst of what could happen before actually experiencing it, I believe I increase the chances of things happening as I imagine them.
I've dropped motorcycles more times than I would ever want to admit. And yes, some of that has to do with my physical size in relation to the weight and height of the bike. But it has a lot more to do with bad judgement stemming from insecurity, and of a lack of confidence. Confidence comes from experience…but it also comes from learning to be nice to yourself.