OK. So. The first bike I ever bought was from the a now defunct used bike warehouse on River Street in Toronto. It was a Honda 250cc, much like the one pictured below. At the time, you could get a bike license before a car license, so I bought the bike a few weeks after my 16th birthday. My pop, Peter, was a rider so I figured it was in the blood (not so much – read on.)

I got my license at the end of the season, and finally scraped together the 1200 bucks for the bike just as the snow was falling. I still wasn’t confident on the bike, so I got my pops to ride it home and it stayed in the garage for the winter. I was itching to ride, even though I still couldn’t cycle through the gears or understanding how the hell to work a clutch (i.e. it’s not an on/off switch) so I took the little tyke out, probably too soon.

I hit a couple hills in my old neighbourhood and tried to remember the training for getting up to speed when facing a hill, but not much had stuck since the last ride. Then I sped down the infamous Baby Point Road just past Jane and Bloor. This road races down a hill, then hits a 90 degree turn before abruptly going back uphill. 

I hit the corner doing probably about 60kmh, and as I came out of it, I hit a patch of ice. This was early April, if memory serves, and the bike just came completely out from underneath me. I skidded to an easy stop on the road, nothing broken, nothing hurt even, other than my ego.

However, the bike hit the top of a ditch, bounced hard and went sailing through the air, crashing through the front window of a house and landing in the middle of a living room.

I’ll finish this story in a day or two. Don’t want to tire out the non-readers on the internet (i.e. everyone) No hard feelings?