Through The Looking Glass

I saw myself today. No, that's not right. What I saw was someone else reminding me who I am and that I am indeed a part of the motorcycling community. It was a small thing, an instant of recognition, but it's hung with me all evening.
When we left the track after the final race, sunburnt and sated, I sent Tony off to the bike because I didn't want to make him deal with a pillion over mown field, sand and gravel. In fact, while de-gearing this morning we chuckled along with a guy who stepped backwards from his bike and into a knee-deep hole. You can see why I love Wolf Hill, can't you? My Triumph, while undeniably loyal, is also a bit unweildy even under the best of conditions. Two-up over a slippery, hay covered, unstable hill is not the best of conditions. Because I'm lazy, I didn't even walk to the bike with Tony. I just got my gear back from the Christian Missionaries who run the gear check near the front of the lot and slipped into it right there. While I was zipping my boots, I heard a woman yelling; "Keep moving! Keep moving!" I didn't think it could possibly be Tony yet, but felt it better to hedge my bets so I headed for the graveled access road.
Hundreds of bikes were streaming down the hill, through the dip, and up the lip at the edge of the field. It was like watching a salmon run. Even more so because often a bike would get stopped, or someone would over/under gun their bike and compensate, causing it to lose momentum. Then the bikes behind would start a chain reaction of stopping or trying to veer around the obstruction until the woman would start yelling to get them going again. The build-up would sort itself out and another would start somewhere else because the bikes were about a dozen wide without any lanes or order coming down off Wolf Hill. I wished I'd had a camcorder. But I didn't so I simply watched in fascination while I waited for Tony.
Then a burgundy sportbike slowed down too much and stopped on the uphill section about a dozen feet from me. Bike flow backed up immediately and the traffic woman started yelling. Burgundy bike made an attempt, but the right hand barely made it off the brake before it went back on again. I realized the rider was nervous, quite understandable packed in so tightly on a slippery gravel rise. That's when I saw her face. She looked at me almost pleadingly and I could see the panic in her eyes.
I froze for an instant. It seemed almost like stepping outside myself to be the witness of some other rider's doubt and fear. She tried and failed again. That's when I dodged the bikes streaming around her and put my hand on the tail section of her bike. The traffic woman realized what I was doing and stopped yelling at the burgundy bike and came over to put her hand on the other side of the tail section. We barely touched the bike, just enough to give the rider the security she needed, and she feathered beautifully into gear and rode up and out of the field without further incident. A few seconds later I spotted Tony coming down the hill.
I often write about fear and inconvenience when I ride. I don't do it to complain or because I'm fishing for absolution. I do it because I don't see too many other people admitting they have these kinds of issues when riding and I think it's important for others to know that it's okay to have them. Despite what all those obnoxious t-shirts would have you believe, it's okay to be frightened or nervous or scared and there's no shame in wanting or needing help to get through it. Today was kind of a physical version of that. I didn't do anything for that rider but let her know someone was behind her for support, and that was enough to get her past her crisis. Maybe in those kind of situations that's all we really need.

Comments

[Linda]

*Yes*.

And in other news, since I am English, I admit that I find the direct link url of this post very, very funny.

But mostly I think you hit the nail on the head.