Motorcycle Riding

May 15, 2012
By , Farmington, WA
To avoid confusion, I will start at the very beginning, when it first started…

My dad introduced motorcycle riding to my family. He used to race motorcycles (and lawn mowers). He is a very good rider, and can climb any hill. When I was too little to have my own bike, he used to take me with him on his motorcycle. I would sit in the front with my little white motorcycle. I always asked him to climb the big hills with me.

Finally, I was old enough to have my own motorcycle. It was a pink hand-me-down from Kayler, but it is still my favorite bike. One time we were camping with two other families. There was this huge hill we would ride down, turn around at the base of the hill, and then ride back up. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it was fun when I was five. It was hot, and I was wearing shorts. I rode on the hill for a while, and Cameron and I decided to trade motorcycles. Mine was a PW 80, and his was a PW 50. Being used to a bigger bike, I leaned too much when I was turning at the bottom of the hill and the bike tipped over. It didn’t hurt, and I rode around some more. I was coming up the hill one last time, and I noticed a little burning in my leg. It didn’t hurt too badly, so I just ignored it. I went over to get some lunch and heard my mom gasp. She told me to lie down on the picnic table, and she poured all of our water on to the back of my calf. I now have a four inch scar. On that camping trip, Cameron also broke his arm.

I used to copy everything Korbyn would do when he would ride. If he would stand up to jump over a pile of dirt, I would too. Unfortunately, he was (and still is) into some dangerous stuff. I would follow him up steep hills and not be able to make it. I would follow him into snowy trails and get stuck. Anywhere I followed him, I would end up crashing.

The year that Tatiana came up to Big Creek with her family Cameron and I taught her how to ride motorcycles. She was very slow. That same year dad took me on a ride to the Big Creek Cabin. That ride is kind of like an initiation. The trail is hanging off a cliff and just wide enough for a motorcycle tire. It is six miles one way and you have to cross creeks, and plow up steep hills covered in jagged rocks. It is the hardest ride I have ever ridden in my whole motorcycle riding career. I made it through though… twice I might add.

Now I am thirteen and still crashing following Korbyn up a side hill.





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