Quote:
Originally Posted by flybigjet
You, sir..... are a steely eyed missile man!
R. |
Thank you - that's quite high praise from someone in aviation!
I've shared this before, so, mostly copy paste for anyone interested:
I've always been competitive; with myself and in general. Combined with ADHD, I tend to find all kinds of interests/hobbies quickly, obsessing over them and rapidly becoming somewhere between "proficient" and "very good" in short order and then losing all interest, in favor of the next interesting activity.
Riding is one of the few things that stuck with me for more than a couple years. I'd wanted a moto since I was a kid but my parents (perhaps wisely/presciently ) forebode it, steering me towards mountain biking instead. So, somewhat stupidly, I started riding in college - a buddy had crashed his car and bought an SV650-S that he let me learn to ride on. Then sold to me for a song. I owned it for about a year before selling it to buy the newly released 2nd generation YZF-R6 in late 2022. Within weeks, I found a local sportbike riding club who practically became family for the next several years. To this day, many of my fondest memories and closest friends came from those years.
Within a few months, as a relatively broke college student, I started corner working for a track day provider in exchange for free track time. A riding friend owned the local bike repair shop and got 95% of my tires from racer buddies as take-offs... 70%+ life for 30% the cost of new. I was putting 15k miles/year on my bike(s) between 2022-2005, when my big accident happened.
The year leading up to the crash, I'd graduated Cal Poly and went straight to living in Santa Barbara, working for Citrix Online (most know of it from the GoToMyPC/GoToMeeting days). I worked there during the day while keeping my college job as a meat clerk/butcher for Vons/Safeway in the evenings/weekends so that I could pay off my student loans (and bike) within a year. I was also at my peak fitness: As a high school/college mid/long distance runner I'd hovered around 140-150lbs between HS and college but had become a bit of a gym rat, to improve my track riding - at the time of my accident I was 170lbs, 5% body fat, benched 280lbs, could run a 4.5min mile.
Then came the crash in Nov of 2005... I'd hit gravel and slid into a guardrail just off the highway, impacting at 50+mph. The aftermath of which was a nearly-broken spirit and body so diminished/damaged I barely recognized myself. Between severing my arm, the broken vertebrae, head trauma, collapsed lung, shattered femur/knee, I was in Stanford hospital for (only) ~5 weeks. Only 5 weeks because Stanford is a teaching hospital, so, they kicked me out as soon as I was stable (most doctors felt that my hospitalization should've been 3-4months). So, my options were group home or stay with family. My (amazing) mom got a hospital bed and took me in while having her employees run her real estate business... all in less than 1.5mo's after my accident. She'd been with me at the hospital, being my advocate... Every... Day... up till that point. As my mother, my crash had taken nearly as big a(n emotional) toll on her as it had me. As thanks for everything she'd done and given up to take of me, I promised her I'd never ride again. (more on that below)
They day I got home, I was down to 118lbs. Over the next 3months I was in constant physical/occupational therapy, perpetually fighting the "normal" pain of such extensive injuries compounded by extreme nerve pain and depression. My employer, Citrix, had really liked me and covered my insurance coverage costs while I was out, however, they could only do so for 6 months from the accident. So, compounding the stress of the recovery, I had to push myself to be ready to move myself back, from the SF/Sac area, to my room in Santa Barbara... only 2.5 months from the first day I could put weight on my utterly shattered leg, not to mention nerve/phantom limb pain from the severed arm.
The hardest thing I've ever done is make that solo, 5hr drive back to SB. I cried the first and last 1/3 of it. 1.5days later, I was back at work.
Over the next few years, it was a struggle, but I never let my injuries, pain, and new disabilities stop me. I got laid off in 2009 and moved in with my sister for a while, back in the SF Bay. But, did I let these minor setbacks slow me down? Of course... but not always and it never outright stopped me. I sky dived, went river rafting, hiked, mountain biked, go-karted, joined a paintball team, got in RCs/drones, gaming, etc. I had to fight to be allowed to participate or be taken seriously in a lot of activities... people/businesses are very scared of liability/litigation. But my determination usually won them over. What hadn't remained, however, was the fire in my belly and confidence around people. I was obviously a shell of my former self. By the 6-7th year, my mom finally said to me, "cg_ops, I will never be 'ok' with you riding, but if you think it'll bring back your old, confident, outgoing self, I will no longer hold you to your promise."
2 weeks later, I got a WR250 X (the black supermoto pictured in my last post). Within 2 months, everyone I knew commented on the difference it had made. I didn't ride like I used to... I couldn't. Wouldn't. At least not on public roads with all the dangers therein. But I was riding! At the time, I was working for LeoVinci / Arrow Exhaust, who sponsored a local track day provider. They got me some free track time and, within 6 months of getting back on the bike, I was working for them as a control rider/instructor. 2 years later, I joined AFM and won the Formula Singles Novice class.
The moral of the story? I believe that few people find a (non-romantic) passion in life. It's a rare gift that far too few find/seek out. So, if/when we do, that passion can become a part of us - be a source of our fondest memories and foster the closest friendships. Therefore, if we want to live the most of our short lives, we need to be comfortable being uncomfortable in pursuing, finding, or re-discovering those passions. Otherwise.... what's the point?