Motorcycle Sport & Leisure Magazine November 2018 Vorige editie

Ican’t remember who was most at fault. Either I
was full of my usual hubris and wanted to show
off (likely) or the photographer was guilty of
doing what some used to do and egged on a
young motorcycle journalist to try something
his skillset couldn’t deliver (not as likely, but
hey, a crash makes a good photo, usually).
Whoever was at fault, him or me, it ended badly.
And painfully. I was never very good at wheelies. Oh
yeah, I could – and still can – loft a front wheel when
the job depends on it (not something that’s called
upon in MSL’s world, thankfully) but the front of a
bike doesn’t stay skyward for long when I do it – a
snapper has to be quick to get a good wheelie shot
with me, especially so these days.
“Just go to the end of the road, turn around and
pop a wheelie on the way back up to me. Nice and
high. It’ll look great.” So off I went, turned around
and performing-poodled it.
The crash was a pretty big one and I ended up
wrecking my knee. After more than a year of hobbling
around and wishing I was better at riding a motorcycle
than I am, bits of my leg could point in the same
direction as the rest of me.
A quarter of a century later I’m used to the
niggling pain and not being able to walk normally
from time-to-time. It’s part of being an old biker in
the modern idiom. But boy, is it annoying.
Why am I telling you this? Largely because I’m
grumpy about it and for the past fewweeks those
knees have been keeping me off two wheels.
I’ve not been able to change gear (too painful), not
been able to get into corners properly (too painful)
and not really been able to get on a motorcycle at
all without looking like I’ve suffered an underwear
malfunction (too embarrassing... and too painful).
Damn you, knees. Damn you.