Wow — what a crash. Didn’t even hurt — at first. I jump ahead of myself when telling this story — it gets a little awkward to admit errors, especially those previously believed to fall into the "Newbie" error category.

I was so excited — taking my TL1000S to the track — my first track day ever. I was riding way too fast on the street and felt ready to graduate to the track. Time to let some skilled riders show me how truly slow I am. I did all the bike prep, gathered all the gear, and arranged for a helper in the form of an experienced racer friend of mine to help me lose my track virginity. Let’s not forget someone has to stand trackside and take pictures for posterity!

After all the build-up, money, time and efforts exerted — the rain came. It rained like hell. The club I joined doesn’t run in the rain. Figures. We never even unloaded after driving to the track hoping to drive out of the storm. So…we slunk home.

Two hours later the sun comes out and we head out for a street ride. Riding down a road I had ridden dozens of times before, with no significant road surface problems, I made a mental error and ran wide in a decreasing radius right hand turn. Into on-coming traffic. Hit a car head-on at about 45 mph.

Luckily it was a new Corvette — brand new (sorry buddy whoever you are). My TL was buried into the front of the car and I had skipped like a stone right over the roof landing 30 feet behind the car where luckily no one ran me over. I came through it fine, just a few fractures (pelvis, right foot and both wrists) and enough muscle sprains to paralyze a horse. My wife, on the other hand, didn’t take it so well. Especially in light of our 18 month old she was trying to sooth as the police told her I was involved in an accident.

Then I realized that none of the life insurance mattered if my son didn’t have a father. It really hit home. This sport is dangerous. I could die! That’s it — no more bikes and I’m buying a Volvo, a beige one, maybe that safe looking station wagon.

The morphine began to wear off and I started rehabilitation. Wow — so that’s what pain is! No more bikes of any kind and I’m filling the Volvo with airbags and wearing a helmet when I drive it. Then I underwent a few unpleasant medical procedures. Yep — I’d better wear my leathers even when washing the Volvo.

A few weeks later things settled down a bit and I was back at the office looking very much like I had been hit by a car. I settled the insurance claim on the TL and life started to get back to normal.

Boy - the garage was starting to look very empty. It didn’t matter that both arms were in casts and I could barely walk up stairs, the garage just looked, well wrong. I felt empty and depressed whenever I thought about my self-imposed motorcycle ban. I found myself shopping for bikes via the net on my lunch hour and after days of working up the nerve I approached the wife about the possibility of riding again. Well damn if I didn’t marry well — she simply replied that she couldn’t imagine me not doing the one thing I loved the most (aside from her!) and gave me a big huge green light. She did tell me to keep it under 750cc’s though. Smart girl.

The research began and I talked to every bike owner I know. I spent hours on the net and digging through reams of old bike mags. I made lists and complied databases comparing everything from insurance rates to quarter mile times. Everything kept pointing to the bike I was shopping for when I bought that TL, a naked SV. The bike simply met my crucial requirements: fast, fun, affordable, reliable, great looking, mod-ready, track worthy and low maintenance. I decided to head back to my standard roots but with the advantage of that revvy liquid cooled twin I loved so much. I settled on a low mileage 1999 blue naked SV on the SVRider.com classifieds site. A quick trip out to see it and a deal was struck.

The irony is, less than a month after swearing in my hospital bed that I would never do anything so risky again, I had to rent a truck to bring home my new bike because I still had both arms casted!

The casts came off and I dragged the old leathers and helmet out of the closet. I was apprehensive and easily irritated as the day for my first ride approached. I was scared — even though I denied it long and loud to anyone who asked. I pulled on the gear and fired up the SV, letting it warm up into a nice looping idle. Off I went on a very brief and nerve racking ride. I found myself looking at every car that went past and wondered what hitting that one would have felt like. It was a rough ride, all ten minutes of it. I was jerky, I fixated on objects, I hit the brakes hard and popped the clutch. What a mess, I had instantly regressed to every bad habit I had spent the last 5 years training myself out of. I went home and called my first ride a success — at least I stayed on two wheels this time.

Since then, it’s been a process of slow improvement until last weekend. Cold as anything here in Pennsylvania, but the sun was out and the roads were clear. I went out and everything clicked. I was looking way through the turns and trusting my peripheral vision again. The brake lever was smoothly squeezed and swift confident stops and decelerations were thoughtless. Downshifts were greeting with timed and proportioned blips of the throttle. Wow — it and I felt great. I went home and signed up for another track day — hopefully this time I’ll actually get out there and stay out of the hospital. Now I have it all, a great bike, a loving family, and the anticipation of rides to come. Back in the saddle again.