vman1300
Never Forgotten
Motorcycles, Life & Sand by Capt Crash
Here’s the deal: I hate sand. Strike that-- I like sand when it’s where
it’s supposed to be, like on the beach. I hate sand when it’s where it’s
not supposed to be.
Sand on beach = Good.
Sand in shorts = Bad.
Sand in your shorts at the beach = Expected. (In fact, at the beach you
expect to find sand in all the nooks and crannies of your personal
person; you expect it so it’s not a big deal, just uncomfortable.)
Finding sand in your shorts when you don’t expect it is the tough
business. Take when you’re working with concrete for example. Concrete
has sand in it and if you’re mixing up concrete in a wheelbarrow you
need to be careful because you can get that sand on your hands and then
transfer it to…other areas.
The thing about sand is that it’s often hard to see when you have it on
you; you tend to feel it first. The grit, the abrasion, the sense of
something on your skin comes first, then you look to see what’s there
and voila! Sand. One of the amazing things about sand is how hard it can
be to spot but how easy it is to feel. Here’s another example, ever have
sand in your bed? Just a couple of grains? Grrrrrrrrr.
You—just—have—to—fix—it—NOW! Sand, where it isn’t supposed to be is
absolutely intolerable and can really surprise and upset you!
Ever find sand—a couple of grains—in your chow? Like in that sandwich at
the beach? Should have expected that right? You’ll toss the whole
sandwich won’t you? Sand grinds on your teeth, it JUST PLAIN SUCKS to
find sand in your food.
Sand is insidious, it can hide from you; in great heaping mounds and
drifts you can avoid it. It’s easy to spot when there’s a ton of it. The
difficulty comes in the fact that just a little sand, an undetectable
amount can put a motorcycle on its side so fast you end up sliding down
the road asking, “What happened?â€
You can avoid rocks, pine needles, branches, kangaroos or socks on the
road cause you can see them. Gravel is pretty easy to spot, as are oil
slicks, radiator spills, tar snakes and dead possums. Sand hides and
sometimes the first you know of it is the front or rear starts sliding.
An unexpected slide can be a terrifying thing. If the bike suddenly lets
go, it’s important thing to remember is that the motorcycle slipping
doesn’t mean you HAVE to crash. A big, important part of the equation is
how you react to the motorcycle sliding. When the tires slide do you
chop the throttle? Do you jerk the bars back toward you? Grab the
brakes? A slipping wheel will often regain traction if you don’t
suddenly change the physical equation with violent inputs.
Don’t freak out--keep riding. When the bike misbehaves we often react by
trying to stop. We chop the throttle, pull in the clutch, hit the
brakes, and the bike goes “WTF are you doing?†Then, overwhelmed with
conflicting input all the traction is gone, control is lost and BANG!
You’re on the ground. We stop riding and start crashing instead.
Life throws those blind jabs at you too. For me, it was diabetes. One
night I started waking up in the middle of night thirsty as heck and the
next thing you know I was shooting insulin. My pancreas just quit
working. Never saw that one coming. It was a complete shock. No one in
my immediate family was diabetic. When a part of your body just up and
quits it’s as shocking as having your motorcycle suddenly move to the
outside of the turn--you get blindsided. Diabetes scared the heck out of
me. Suddenly I was chronically ill. A small but major organ had quit.
Untreated I would die. I was in for a life long dependency on insulin.
Like slipping on sand, I never saw it coming. I just suddenly was diabetic.
Once you’ve been surprised the question becomes: what am I gonna do
about it? Grab the brakes? Chop the throttle? Clutch in? Look down at
your hands? Freak out?
Or keep riding?
When the Doctor told me, “You have Type 1 Diabetes, you’re probably
going to be injecting insulin the rest of your life†I didn’t ignore him
but I didn’t jump up, run down, and get counseling. I didn’t weep, wail
or gnash my teeth. Doc set me up with a prescription, an appointment
with a Diabetic Educator, and gave me a pat on the back then he sent me
home. I laid in bed and thought about my new future—of injections and
blood samples and packing ‘diabetic stuff’ with me everywhere (did I
mention one of the benefits of diabetes? You get sick easier and will
stay sick longer—in other words, the flu or a cold can be reeeeally
annoying!). Like anyone after an unexpected slide I went back to see if
I could decipher what had happened. I looked through my family history.
I tried to think what in the world brought this on. What had I done to
deserve this?
The answer was—nobody knows. Could be genetic, could be viral, could
be…well it just is; I’m diabetic. Only thing that’s for sure? My body
produces no insulin. None. Zippo. (Crappy Icelandic Pancreas).
Next day? Sun rose. I was still diabetic and I got up and set out on how
to be a TV News Photographer and a diabetic. I didn’t chop the throttle
and stop working though the thought crossed my mind. I wondered ‘Should
I take a few days off?’ You know this is a life changing illness. I
decided the thing to do was stay on the throttle. I didn’t think of all
the things I couldn’t do, I just started to figure out how to do the
things I had been doing. Diabetes could control me or I could control my
Diabetes. I chose to be in charge. Was it scary? Sometimes yes. Did I
make mistakes? Yes. But I got back into life and have been able to live
the way I want to. Diabetes doesn’t own me—I own it. Some days I take
five shots a day. Why? Because I’m my own pancreas now and if I eat, I’m
in charge.
Getting scared by sand on a motorcycle can be the same way—it can scare
the crap out of you, drive you into a nasty crash, even scare you off
the bike. OR you can stay calm, take control of the situation, keep your
eyes up, stay on the gas and get on with your life. It’s OK to be
frightened after something bad happens—it’s natural. The thing to avoid
is letting something bad stop you from doing things you love.
Does riding through sand mean you’ll always fall? Nope, but it can scare
you badly. OH, and one other thing: falling isn’t guaranteed, but
getting up should be.
Since I was diagnosed with Diabetes I’ve: had 2 more children (total 4),
worked as a TV News Photographer, helped get a fledgling TV station on
air, worked as a local producer/director, changed careers, been teacher
of the year at my high school, moved to a small farm, learned to put up
hay, raise cattle, become a certified motorcycle instructor, am a Fire
Commissioner, have traveled and worked as a camera operator on
nationally broadcast sporting events, helped kids to 4 state
championships in video production and managed to celebrate our 20th year
of marriage and sent 2 kids to college.
Am I proud of what I’ve done since I became ‘Diabetic’? Sure, but
really? All I did was keep doing what I wanted. I just kept riding.
My Pop (Grandpa Crash) used to say, “Sometimes you can’t control what
happens to you, all you can control is how your react.â€
Giving up is never the answer. Know where you want to go, keep your eyes
up, and if things get squirrelly? Stay on the gas--keep riding!
Here’s the deal: I hate sand. Strike that-- I like sand when it’s where
it’s supposed to be, like on the beach. I hate sand when it’s where it’s
not supposed to be.
Sand on beach = Good.
Sand in shorts = Bad.
Sand in your shorts at the beach = Expected. (In fact, at the beach you
expect to find sand in all the nooks and crannies of your personal
person; you expect it so it’s not a big deal, just uncomfortable.)
Finding sand in your shorts when you don’t expect it is the tough
business. Take when you’re working with concrete for example. Concrete
has sand in it and if you’re mixing up concrete in a wheelbarrow you
need to be careful because you can get that sand on your hands and then
transfer it to…other areas.
The thing about sand is that it’s often hard to see when you have it on
you; you tend to feel it first. The grit, the abrasion, the sense of
something on your skin comes first, then you look to see what’s there
and voila! Sand. One of the amazing things about sand is how hard it can
be to spot but how easy it is to feel. Here’s another example, ever have
sand in your bed? Just a couple of grains? Grrrrrrrrr.
You—just—have—to—fix—it—NOW! Sand, where it isn’t supposed to be is
absolutely intolerable and can really surprise and upset you!
Ever find sand—a couple of grains—in your chow? Like in that sandwich at
the beach? Should have expected that right? You’ll toss the whole
sandwich won’t you? Sand grinds on your teeth, it JUST PLAIN SUCKS to
find sand in your food.
Sand is insidious, it can hide from you; in great heaping mounds and
drifts you can avoid it. It’s easy to spot when there’s a ton of it. The
difficulty comes in the fact that just a little sand, an undetectable
amount can put a motorcycle on its side so fast you end up sliding down
the road asking, “What happened?â€
You can avoid rocks, pine needles, branches, kangaroos or socks on the
road cause you can see them. Gravel is pretty easy to spot, as are oil
slicks, radiator spills, tar snakes and dead possums. Sand hides and
sometimes the first you know of it is the front or rear starts sliding.
An unexpected slide can be a terrifying thing. If the bike suddenly lets
go, it’s important thing to remember is that the motorcycle slipping
doesn’t mean you HAVE to crash. A big, important part of the equation is
how you react to the motorcycle sliding. When the tires slide do you
chop the throttle? Do you jerk the bars back toward you? Grab the
brakes? A slipping wheel will often regain traction if you don’t
suddenly change the physical equation with violent inputs.
Don’t freak out--keep riding. When the bike misbehaves we often react by
trying to stop. We chop the throttle, pull in the clutch, hit the
brakes, and the bike goes “WTF are you doing?†Then, overwhelmed with
conflicting input all the traction is gone, control is lost and BANG!
You’re on the ground. We stop riding and start crashing instead.
Life throws those blind jabs at you too. For me, it was diabetes. One
night I started waking up in the middle of night thirsty as heck and the
next thing you know I was shooting insulin. My pancreas just quit
working. Never saw that one coming. It was a complete shock. No one in
my immediate family was diabetic. When a part of your body just up and
quits it’s as shocking as having your motorcycle suddenly move to the
outside of the turn--you get blindsided. Diabetes scared the heck out of
me. Suddenly I was chronically ill. A small but major organ had quit.
Untreated I would die. I was in for a life long dependency on insulin.
Like slipping on sand, I never saw it coming. I just suddenly was diabetic.
Once you’ve been surprised the question becomes: what am I gonna do
about it? Grab the brakes? Chop the throttle? Clutch in? Look down at
your hands? Freak out?
Or keep riding?
When the Doctor told me, “You have Type 1 Diabetes, you’re probably
going to be injecting insulin the rest of your life†I didn’t ignore him
but I didn’t jump up, run down, and get counseling. I didn’t weep, wail
or gnash my teeth. Doc set me up with a prescription, an appointment
with a Diabetic Educator, and gave me a pat on the back then he sent me
home. I laid in bed and thought about my new future—of injections and
blood samples and packing ‘diabetic stuff’ with me everywhere (did I
mention one of the benefits of diabetes? You get sick easier and will
stay sick longer—in other words, the flu or a cold can be reeeeally
annoying!). Like anyone after an unexpected slide I went back to see if
I could decipher what had happened. I looked through my family history.
I tried to think what in the world brought this on. What had I done to
deserve this?
The answer was—nobody knows. Could be genetic, could be viral, could
be…well it just is; I’m diabetic. Only thing that’s for sure? My body
produces no insulin. None. Zippo. (Crappy Icelandic Pancreas).
Next day? Sun rose. I was still diabetic and I got up and set out on how
to be a TV News Photographer and a diabetic. I didn’t chop the throttle
and stop working though the thought crossed my mind. I wondered ‘Should
I take a few days off?’ You know this is a life changing illness. I
decided the thing to do was stay on the throttle. I didn’t think of all
the things I couldn’t do, I just started to figure out how to do the
things I had been doing. Diabetes could control me or I could control my
Diabetes. I chose to be in charge. Was it scary? Sometimes yes. Did I
make mistakes? Yes. But I got back into life and have been able to live
the way I want to. Diabetes doesn’t own me—I own it. Some days I take
five shots a day. Why? Because I’m my own pancreas now and if I eat, I’m
in charge.
Getting scared by sand on a motorcycle can be the same way—it can scare
the crap out of you, drive you into a nasty crash, even scare you off
the bike. OR you can stay calm, take control of the situation, keep your
eyes up, stay on the gas and get on with your life. It’s OK to be
frightened after something bad happens—it’s natural. The thing to avoid
is letting something bad stop you from doing things you love.
Does riding through sand mean you’ll always fall? Nope, but it can scare
you badly. OH, and one other thing: falling isn’t guaranteed, but
getting up should be.
Since I was diagnosed with Diabetes I’ve: had 2 more children (total 4),
worked as a TV News Photographer, helped get a fledgling TV station on
air, worked as a local producer/director, changed careers, been teacher
of the year at my high school, moved to a small farm, learned to put up
hay, raise cattle, become a certified motorcycle instructor, am a Fire
Commissioner, have traveled and worked as a camera operator on
nationally broadcast sporting events, helped kids to 4 state
championships in video production and managed to celebrate our 20th year
of marriage and sent 2 kids to college.
Am I proud of what I’ve done since I became ‘Diabetic’? Sure, but
really? All I did was keep doing what I wanted. I just kept riding.
My Pop (Grandpa Crash) used to say, “Sometimes you can’t control what
happens to you, all you can control is how your react.â€
Giving up is never the answer. Know where you want to go, keep your eyes
up, and if things get squirrelly? Stay on the gas--keep riding!
)
