| Author | Message | ||
     12r |
This little story takes place in England, where we ride on the left-hand side of the road and this particular road has two lanes, one in each direction. It's sometimes said that when you're involved in a high-speed overtaking manoeuvre, the last person you want to meet coming the other way is yourself. In 25 years of uninterrupted motorcycling, I've only ever met myself once - until Saturday. As I swooped through the downhill S-bend, I could see the roof of a horse box in the immediate distance, travelling at least 50 mph slower than I was. Traffic was sparse and I knew the road ahead quite well so I decided to plot a trajectory that would take me along the inside of the horse box on the next right-hand kink, so that I would be in a prime position for the following series of world-class corners. Bearing down on the horse box, I rolled off slightly and looked around the outside to check that the road ahead was clear; although it curved slightly to the right, visibility was good and I decided to go for the overtake. I pulled out and aimed for the road in front of the horse box, revelling in the 4th gear thrust from the mighty 1203 cc V-twin, but as I came alongside I spotted the unmistakeable headlight of a K5 GSX-R coming the other way, overtaking a saloon car; we were both on the wrong side of the road, he was where I wanted to be and I was where he wanted to be. I was doing about 80 mph and our closing speed had to be over 160 mph sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-it ! A change in buttock pressure and elbow angle had my Firebolt diving for the diminishing gap in front of the horse box, while Mr. GSX-R did the same thing on the saloon car. We passed so fast and so close I don't recall any details of the other bike or it's rider, just a F-TOOOOOOOOOM roar as the air was severed in both directions like a mini thunderstorm. I glanced in the mirrors as I flicked the Firebolt onto it's other side for the approaching left-hander and it looked as though everyone had made it. Moral: Good judgment comes from experience. Unfortunately, experience sometimes comes from bad judgment. | ||
| Dave |
Excellent assessment 12r. I think some would experience that without any reflection at all. Thankfully, my experience gain has been gradual without huge leaps of knowledge. I think it's the folks that attempt to span the gap of experience too much that have an ugly outcome. Good post DAve | ||
| Jiffy |
Nice write up. | ||
| Jaimec |
At what point did you stop to buy new underwear? Geez!! Of course, in order to change underwear, you'd FIRST have to break the suction between your seat and the motorcycle's seat caused by the EXTREME pucker factor, I'd imagine... | ||
| 12r |
Your imagination is pretty accurate Jaime, I was just glad nobody braked   | ||
| Captainxb |
So if you pulled out on the horse box first . . . you'd have right of way, yes?!  Thanks for the good read! | ||
| Brineusaf |
I've encountered a situation similiar to that a few times, both in your shoes, and the other guys.. usually it is only with 1 cage though (or horse box). | ||
| Isham |
Nice read. | ||
| Buellgirlie |
whoooooooooosh. good job! D | ||
| Jlnance |
Good judgment comes from experience. Unfortunately, experience sometimes comes from bad judgment. Oh, thats going onto my profile page | ||
| Jackbequick |
Pilots talk about flying being "hours of boredom and seconds of terror", I'd apply that to motorcycling as "hours of joy and seconds of terror". In the good old days of three lane roads with a "first come first served" shared passing lane, I saw times when the vehicles in the outer lanes faded to the right a little to make room for the two vehicles trying to avoid meeting head on while "sharing" the passing lane. Perfectly timed, you had four vehicles crossing in two directions at one point on the roadway with a cumulative speed of about 300 MPH. Good read 12r! Jack | ||
| Cowboyup |
Great story! Two questions; 1) what's a horse box? 2) what's a saloon car? | ||
| 12r |
Ahh yes three lane roads, I remember them - first come, first served. A distant memory thanks to HM Government. Horse box, aka mobile chicane: vehicle designed to carry one or two horses at a pace guaranteed not to spook the animals. Invariably driven by good-looking but myopic female doped up on Mogadon. Saloon car: not a sports car  | ||
| Tank_bueller |
Three lane roads... They were called "Suicide highways" according to my pops. |
