I had one hell of a moment this afternoon coming home from visiting the folks. I was enjoying the 3 flowing corners I've got in our city when I turned into the final left hander. I was greeted by the big fat eyes of some dumb-ass guy ( amazing what details you remember) as he drifted into my lane heading straight at my headlight...
Now I've done enough track days and read enough books to know the age old story of "you've always got more lean than you think". I was completely wrong to believe I'd done enough to make countersteering a natural and instinctive reaction! Thank God I'd been to those schools, because without them I have no doubt I'd be a bonnet mascot right now. Well, until the arsehole had woken up enough to scrape me off!
What scares me is that I STILL had to actively think "countersteer, Fool" (my exact thought) before actually doing so. After so many trackdays and schools, and so many miles???
Anyway, finally got my knee down on the road, but didn't want it to be in jeans, on a small loose stone. Just a small graze, some swelling, and plenty of sympathy from the missus
And this after thinking my Dad was in trouble, running to help and tripping on a brick, twisting an ankle, then falling flat onto a pile of them, scraping my wrist raw. Feeling pretty abused at the moment
Enough self pity, I wonder if I would have made it on the old slow-steering blade? Hmmm, don't know, scary thought...
Now I've done enough track days and read enough books to know the age old story of "you've always got more lean than you think". I was completely wrong to believe I'd done enough to make countersteering a natural and instinctive reaction! Thank God I'd been to those schools, because without them I have no doubt I'd be a bonnet mascot right now. Well, until the arsehole had woken up enough to scrape me off!
What scares me is that I STILL had to actively think "countersteer, Fool" (my exact thought) before actually doing so. After so many trackdays and schools, and so many miles???
Anyway, finally got my knee down on the road, but didn't want it to be in jeans, on a small loose stone. Just a small graze, some swelling, and plenty of sympathy from the missus
And this after thinking my Dad was in trouble, running to help and tripping on a brick, twisting an ankle, then falling flat onto a pile of them, scraping my wrist raw. Feeling pretty abused at the moment
Enough self pity, I wonder if I would have made it on the old slow-steering blade? Hmmm, don't know, scary thought...