Taking a break on one of my...
Taking a break on one of my last rides. Street riding can be fun, safe and just as satisfying as riding at the track if you learn the specific skills necessary and ride to the best of your abilities to reduce the risks involved.
Over the years I've adopted an almost paranoid respect of riding safely, especially on the street. It started when we first moved to Los Angeles and didn't have a car: Any crash and resultant injury that kept me from riding would be the end of my daily transportation, including getting to work. And there was no way I was going to get in an accident with Mrs. Trevitt as precious cargo, as she often was. I actually didn't have a lot of street riding experience when I first started at the magazine (somehow I managed to pull the wool over Kento's eyes on that one), and luckily stayed out of trouble right up until my current predicament.
Experienced riders depend on many tricks to stay safe on the street, and I worked my way through all of the tips and advice-some helpful, some not. Eventually, I found my own way to cope with the dangers of street riding, and it served me well up until recently. Most of my near misses on the street-and a couple of my crashes at the track-all happened when I lost concentration or let my mind wander, even just for a moment. That's how I destroyed a Buell Lightning at Buttonwillow Raceway Park in California: I had decided to come into the pits after the lap I was on, had backed off on my pace, but still went over Lost Hills too quickly and lowsided on some pavement sealer. In town, I had quite a few close calls when I'd be checking out the crazy things people were doing in their cars, or flipping off an errant driver rather than worrying about what I was doing.
I decided at some point that the only option was to devote 100 percent of my efforts and concentration to riding, whether it was just zipping over to the grocery store or strafing down a canyon road. A lot of riders seem to think that riding on the street requires less attention and mental capacity than the track, but with my newfound criteria I was at first getting worn out just riding to the office in the mornings. Another mistake a lot of people make is that they think a crash is not that big a deal. But even a minor tipover on the street can turn into a major disaster; a simple crash in town can get a lot worse quickly if cars are around. A lowside can be bad news on a mountain pass should you go over the edge. To me, crashing simply wasn't an option: When I said goodbye to Mrs. Trevitt in the morning to go to work or to go on a ride, I was going to do everything in my power to make sure I made it to wherever I was going in one piece.
I know a lot of racers shy away from riding on the street, and I was among them at one time. But logging thousands of miles here at the magazine brought me a new appreciation for street riding. A different skill set is required to deal with the many unknowns, and these skills need to be learned and optimized just as track skills are. To me, getting down a canyon road knowing I didn't put a wheel wrong-no matter what the pace-is just as satisfying as setting a personal best lap time at the track.
Despite all my safety precautions, I still ended up in a big mess. But I enjoyed street riding so much that knowing I could get seriously injured-or worse-was a risk I was willing to take. Here at the rehabilitation center I'm finding that people can hurt themselves even more than I'm injured in all kinds of ways: driving, mountain biking, swimming, falling off a roof or even a step ladder. The point I'm trying to make is that you can't give up on doing something you love just because there is a risk of getting hurt. Take that attitude a few steps further, and you'd have a hard time justifying getting out of bed in the morning. But that doesn't mean you can take a cavalier attitude to riding. Do everything you can to minimize that risk; if not for yourself, for your friends and family.