squashed like a bug by a truck, my beautiful and loyal red BMW R100 Mystic motorcycle is as dead as 2,597 door nails. Rudie - rude boy. oversized teardrop gas tank, narrow tail, hard bags, straight bars. I liked to lean it over far enough to scrape the center stand, and also to ride hands free & standing on the pegs down long gentle hills in san francisco.

riding led eventually to a book I will recommend with highest confidence - Twist of the Wrist II: The Basics of High-Performance motorcycle racing, by Keith Code. yes, the book improved my speed-riding - Code explains in the simplest terms the counter-intuitive physics of a gyro in motion, and what that means for navigating any 2-wheeler at speed. I also like his attitude towards fear: how much of it can one take & still keep your hat on?

reading Code's counter-intuitive instructions for riding at 55 in a 25 mph zone, I realized how appropriate his rules would be if applied to other parts of life - aside from motorcycles. a sample?

when in doubt, accelerate
when the road gets rough, loosen your grip
pick a line in a turn & hold it (follow through)
look at the hole, not the obstacle

riding a two wheeler takes me to the edge of who I know I am. my body in motion in balance in the wind feels like home. poor rudie. the best part of the whole episode was that the accident occured while I was in getting a massage. aside from a bit of a harshed mellow, i rode rudie home thankful, not wishing I was there when it happened. after 12 years together, I miss rudie more than I would have imagined...