Young Easy-Rider and the course of death.
When I was sixteen I had a girlfriend called Ro who lived quite a way off in Virginia Waters. I used to go out to see her twice a week.
At that time I had a little Honda Sports motorbike and treated it much like a speedway bike.
There was a stretch of windy road with big dips, tight corners and sweeping bends on the way to Ro’s. My aim was to manage the whole section with the throttle wide open.
When you are young you are fearless, crazy and immortal. The adrenaline rush far outweighs the risk.
The section was usually free of traffic and in a wooded area. I treated it like a computer game. I had to learn the course and how to negotiate each part of it. The bike would be travelling at seventy miles an hour. I had to lean it right down, go up on to the embankment, up on pavements and even pivot it round on the footrest for one corner.
Fortunately I mostly did this at night when you could see the headlights of oncoming traffic as a lot of the time I was on the wrong side of the road.
Gradually I pieced it together. By the time we split up I had the whole course down to a T. I loved a challenge and life was for living.
At sixteen brains haven’t wired up. Consequences have not been understood.
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