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I can relate to that...

Admittedly it was 36 years ago, I was a 85-pound-soaking-wet beanpole, and the machine was a 250cc Ducati thumper of uncertain vintage. During my first attempt at the land speed record for a normally aspirated rat bike in a plowed field, I found a boulder with an ice berg-like 10 percent showing. Front wheel was bent beyond the capacity to roll -- so I had to carry the front and drag the rear. I got back to the house around sunset. I can still hear my Mother screaming about the blood and my Dad laughing his ass off. If you're relatively small or weak, living with a motorcycle becomes an exercise in finesse and caution. Good on Airyn for not giving it up. Thank God I outgrew that crap.
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