Often, the risk isn't with the rider, but the morons in cages who don't pay attention, who ride our fenders and don't give bikers the respect they deserve.
They say every biker either has crashed or hasn't crashed YET. Had a couple myself -- knock wood, may those be it for me.
The worst was when a deer jumped out of trees and landed right on our front fender. My hubby tried his best to keep it on the road, but even though we were only traveling about 35 mph, we went down. That event scared me plenty. I had flashbacks for months whenever we went out on the bike.
Every biker knows about road rash; that doesn't begin to describe the damage inflicted in even minor crashes.
Nobody goes riding expecting not to come home again. And on a motorcycle, any crash could be your last.
When I bought my bike, I didn't tell my oldest sister until the day we brought it home. She put her fists on her hips and through gritted teeth hissed, "You didn't TELL me you bought a motorcycle."
"I knew what you'd say," I replied.
"Yes, you knew what I'd say! I work with head-injury patients. Do you know how they got that way??!"
"They didn't wear their helmet."
Life is fraught with risk. What if a plane crashes through my roof and kills me in my bed? I can't live my life in fear.
We do our best to reduce the risks. We get training. We ride within our skills, and practice to extend those skills.
I know family and friends are concerned about my welfare. But do they HAVE to start the conversation with the co-worker who snapped her femur in two -- and the cousin who will never be the same again after his near-fatal accident?
Yeah -- I worked with a guy who rode around a tight mountain curve straight into the hood of an oncoming car and spent the next six months with a halo screwed into his skull. As far as I know, he never rode again.
So why do millions of Americans persist on two-wheeled ambulation?
Because it's the closest thing to flying without leaving the ground.
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