It’s winter here in Illinois. My bike is safely tucked away in my garage and my days are spent at work living vicariously through internet strangers who get to ride year round. I’ve found more than a few people who broke out their dirt bikes and made their way to the trails. I don’t have a dirt bike of my own, but, after a few quick texts to my friends, I found one I could borrow for the day and loaded up the truck and trailer with my buddy.
When we pulled up to the trails we unloaded our bikes and started them up. I want to stress to you, before I continue, that I had not ridden dirt bikes before. Not only that, but I am also what some people refer to as “clumsy”. I tried my best to tell my friend this, but he was just too happy to be able to get out and ride. We took off into the woods and I tried my best to keep up. I made it to the first dirt track after following a pretty straight trail. I rode around the small track getting used to the feel of shifting, leaning, slowing, and accidentally jumping my dirt bike. I came from a little 300cc street bike so I assumed this would be an easy transition. It was not.
Everything about the dirt bike was different. I barely left second gear going through most of the trails, but I felt pretty confident after riding around the dirt track. I mean, not everybody can learn to ride a bike on flat ground. After about fifteen minutes and a short break later we decided to head into the woods a bit deeper and start exploring some of the trails. I made it about a half mile or so into the trail until I found my first mud puddle rounding a corner.
I wish I could tell you guys that I made it through that mud puddle. I really do. But I didn’t. My rear tire spun out and kicked to the left. My obvious solution to this is to put my foot down into the mud puddle to right myself (don’t do this). I lost my shoe in the mud and ended up about 5 feet behind my bike. It was probably the slowest wipeout in the history of motorcycling and if you ask my friend, one of the funniest. I walked away with only a bruised leg and a bruised ego. The 230 started right up (electric start is friggin’ awesome) and we made our way to the next spot in the trail.
We went up hills and down hills (some I refused to do, but my friend is fearless it seems), through more mud puddles than I can count (and I laid my bike down in almost every one of them… almost), and cut through some of the smallest little trails I had ever seen, but we made it. I learned something out there while I was picking up my bike. I loved every second of it. I would do it again in a heartbeat. There’s something about the challenge of trail riding that makes it fun. A different kind of fun than you can find on the street. There’s a sense of accomplishment that you can’t beat while you’re pushing both the bike’s limits and your own. You lay your bike down (in my case, not everyone’s), you get back up and try again. It was addicting. I’ve been scouring craigslist to find myself a used dirt bike so I can go ride again. I’m not going to give up street riding, but for the time being my mind is set on one thing, getting back out on a dirt bike.
