askapro Learning to manage the risks By Lee Parks #162125
Q: My friend has been in a medically
induced coma for six days now from a motorcycle accident that was not his can’t
fault. He breathe on his own,
and it’s causing me to rethink my com- mitment to riding. What advice do you have for reconciling my passion for rid- ing with wanting to be there for my family in the future?
—David B.
A: David, there is no greater job as a rider than learning to manage the risks. Part of that job is knowing when the risk outweighs the reward. Only you can make that decision. Fortu- nately, you are not alone in that struggle. This summer I dislocated my
shoulder while downhill mountain biking even though I was fully geared up, including a full-face helmet and chest/shoulder/back protector. The pain was the worst I had ever experi- enced in countless injuries I’ve com- batted in over a dozen action sports. My poor girlfriend and employee (who were on the same ride) had to listen to me cry and scream like a little girl for an hour and a half until the emergency room doctor was able to force my shoulder back in its socket from the other side of my body. I wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy. The inevitable question came up:
Was going to ride again? I have to admit, even I did a mental double- take. The answer, however, was an undeniable “Yes!” In fact, I bought a second, more appropriate bike for downhill riding while I was still in a sling. It’s been six months since my
78 BMW OWNERS NEWS February 2017
crash, and I still can’t ride off-road on my mountain bikes or any of my off-road motorcycles. I was just able to raise my arm straight up three weeks ago for the first time, though it still hurts to do so. Strength will be my next goal in therapy, and it will probably be spring before I attempt riding off-road again. To add insult to injury, I received a call
that a young rider from Tijuana named Ryan, who was in the process of getting trained to bring Total Control courses to Mexico, died in a head on crash with a car last week. In these types of situations, the motorcycle inevitably loses. But so did Ryan’s family, friends and coworkers. Twist- ing the knife of disappointment, he was two weeks away from graduating college in San Diego. At times like this, I find that my own elo-
quence is inadequate, and I need the words of wiser folks than myself to help put things in perspective. As the Native Americans say, “Death comes, always out of season.” In other words, there is never a good time for terrible news. This somewhat begs the question of why do we choose to take such risks as riders? Perhaps United States Navy Rear Admi-
ral Grace M. Hopper said it best, “A ship is safe in port, but that’s not what ships were built for.” As riders, we can all nod our heads as to the significance of that state- ment. For those who don’t, the old Harley adage of, “If you have to ask, you wouldn’t understand” comes to mind. Nothing was as personally devastating as
when my best friend Scott died at Summit Point raceway in 2001 after hitting a wall at over 100 mph on our backup endurance race bike. I was not there on that fateful day, but I remember getting that phone call and feeling like someone kicked me in the groin while simultaneously knocking the wind out of me. First came shock, then survivor’s guilt, then the realization that our team was
two weeks away from possibly winning our first national championship. We just needed to finish no more than four spots behind the current second-place team in points, and we would be champions. As yet one more body blow, someone had to ask his parents what we should/could do since Scott owned the team, transporter and most of the equipment. As the eldest rider on the team, I was unanimously nominated by my teammates to have that most uncom- fortable of conversations with Scott’s par- ents. After all, how does someone who is deeply grieving himself even bring up the topic with such deep sorrow permeating the very fabric of space and time. Scott’s stoic father and I did our best get
through the conversation without sobbing when he regained focus and boldly told me what we were supposed to do. “Of course, you’re going to go to the last
race,” he interjected. “You’re going to go to that race and win the championship for Scott!” The intense pressure of winning for my
dead friend was eclipsed only by my being asked to perform the eulogy at his funeral. How could I do justice to a man that I had only known for one year? My experiences with him primarily related to motorcycle racing, yet with him having such a rich, kaleidoscopic life, anything I said would surely not be enough for his grieving par- ents. Again, I turned to a writer who was able to put into poetic prose what I could not. I ended my seemingly hodgepodge eulogy with a poem called “Risk” by Janet Rand:
Risk To laugh is to risk appearing the fool. To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To reach out for another is to risk involvement. To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.
skills
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