It’s said that every biker either has dropped their bike or will drop their bike.
For some reason I thought I was exempt from this. Silly me.
I was coming home from camping with a friend in Bristol, IN, and it happened. I was stopped at a light and decided to hike up my sagging pants. I’ve done this before, no big deal. It was ridiculously hot outside, though, and I wasn’t in my best shape.
Then, all of a sudden, it just got really heavy on the left side. Heavier than I thought it could have been. I’ve picked the bike up before, when I had to work on the bottom of it. I was struggling to pick it up, and then another biker quickly stopped his Harley and helped me finish the job.
I looked at the ground in dismay as I picked up my side mirror from the pavement. I wasn’t panicky or anything, but it still wasn’t a good feeling. This wasn’t a “first” that I wanted to have.
A quick go-over with my bike and I was able to determine that nothing else had broken. The Harley rider and his companion stayed with me for a couple miles to make sure everything was alright. I love bikers.