on a dirt bike, I was king with my non racer friends. I sucked potato juice compared to my racer friends. Anyway, they all rode 250's 2t or bigger. I rode a 125. Open road and area's, they whooped me like a dead horse in the derby. In the trails, they couldn't touch me, part the bike, part the guys that raced that had me ride with them while they trained. Was as close as my dad let me get to any racing, so I jumped on it. One day we are out in the city trails. Illegal at that time, now a paid site, because we gone ride where we gone ride. lol. It's a great spot of sand, mud, hills, woods, open, a whole mix right by the river. So I was always first off the trailer, and last on, I got a head start in the open to the trails that day. They were right behind me eating my mud. We got to the trails, I'm zooming, going just as far as my skills could take me. I'm in the lead to the first open and trail split. Here comes the dense windy woods, my fav part of the start of these trails. I'm winding through, and come around a u bend to a snake down hill. When low and behold, 25 yards or so in front of me is a tree hanging chest height on the trail. I didn't see it right away because I was looking behind me for fear they were gaining on me. I turned around just in time to mouth " censored" and wham!! right in my chest. bike kept going and jumped off the trail and stopped. I stopped right there, rolled off the trail. The proceeded to watch my buddy do the same thing, but he almost got some tires on him. lol. I laid there trying not to laugh, it hurt like " censored". I had a bruise across my chest for about 3 months. What saved us from any real injury, our parent forced us to wear full gear and real helmet's, or no riding. I was always more aware of my surroundings after that. Man if it wasn't for the thick annoying vest my dad made me wear, I'd probably have broken some ribs.
