March 24, 2001. The weather forecast was for a reasonably good day for an early spring ride. Cloudy skies. Temps in the 50s. Maybe a chance of rain, but with luck it would pass north of the area. Certainly not perfect or ideal riding conditions, but good enough to get out on two wheels. All the "usual suspects" were invited, but only Chris and Herb showed up to ride. Once again, outnumbered by red Hondas! Chris on his VTR wheelie monster and Herb on his newly acquired, mint condition VFR (that he picked up for a song!) At least my one-off yellow GSXR stands out in the crowd!

We met at my place in Arlington around 10am. We hung around and talked in the circular driveway in front of my building, just in case one of the rest of the gang decided to show up. My wife, Karen, was heading out for a bicycle ride so she hung out with us too. Even though she has no real personal interest in motorcycling (either riding or being a passenger), Karen is cool about my riding. She knows it's a speed thing. Adrenaline rush thing. A male bonding thing. She knows that like very other sport/hobby I've been involved with, I'm obsessed with it. She's supportive and understanding (even came with me to California Superbike School). And she likes all the motorcycle people who have become part of our circle of friends. Oh yeah, she's smart enough to make sure my life insurance is paid up!

No one else showed so we took off and droned down I-395/I-95 south to the "official" ride start – the Amoco station in Dumfries at the intersection of Route 234 and Route 1. I hate riding on interstates. Straight. Boring. Too many BDCs. Thankfully, we could take the HOV lanes (even though they weren't restricted) southbound, which meant we wouldn't have to deal with as much traffic.

The plan was to do what I call the "Prince William Forest" ride – fun enough for experienced riders and challenging enough for newer riders. Starts in Dumfries and a run through Prince William Forest on Joplin Road. Two lane "country" road. Minimal traffic. Rolling. Lots of curves. In other words, a great road for motorcycling – sportbikes in particular. After the forest, the route opens up a little. Some straight stretches of road to cruise and relax. But still plenty of curvey stuff as the route winds west and south through Prince William County and into Fauquier County via Aden, Sowego, Bristersburg, Elk Run, Somerville, and Morrisville. Then it's north via Remington, Lakota, Jeffersonton, and Turnbull into Warrenton, which is a good place to stop for gas and something to eat and drink. From Warrenton, it's back west and south via Greenwich, Bristow, Brentsville, and Independent Hill. The ride ends with another run (in the opposite direction) through the curvy stuff in Prince William Forest on Joplin Road.

We waited at the Amoco for a little bit, just in case anyone else decided to hook up with us there. But it was just going to be the three of us. So we zipped up our suits, donned our helmets and gloves, and fired up our motors. Three different sounds – an inline-4, a V-twin, and a V-4 – but all music to our ears!

We made the run through Prince William Forest at a pretty good clip. It was still one of my first rides of the season so I certainly wasn't riding at a manic pace. And it was only my second ride on a new set of tires. Plus I was experimenting with a lower profile (60-series) front tire and learning how it rode and handled. Nonetheless, it was a pretty spirited pace – hey, we're riding sportbikes don'tcha know! Glancing in my rearview mirrors, I could see that Chris was keeping pace but keeping a reasonable and safe distance between us. Herb was riding further back and at one point, actually dropped out of sight. Now I know Herb's no slouch. I've ridden with him before. And he's always managed to ride at a respectable pace on a Honda Magna cruiser when the rest of us are on sportier mounts. Herb would later tell me that he thought Chris and I were moving along at a pretty good clip through all the curvy stuff. Since riding the VFR was still a relatively new experience for him, he decided the best thing to do was to ride at his own pace – well within his comfort zone and ability level – rather than push it and try to keep up (although I have no doubts that he could have). This is what I call smart riding. It's the kind of judgement I like to know I and my riding companions are exercising. It's the kind of judgement I wish more people would use out on group rides (especially riding with people you've never ridden with before). It's the difference between having a fun and enjoyable ride and breaking out in a cold sweat (and even the shakes) trying to keep up with faster, more experienced riders. And it can be the difference between staying upright and crashing. It's not a race out there (save that for the track). "Slow" is OK. And it's a whole lot better than "rider down".

After hooning through the forest, we settled into a more sedate "cruising" pace on Aden Road. It was pretty clear that the sun wasn't going to come out. In fact, the skies were getting a little darker. I could see that whatever weather was moving in was coming from the north and west. I knew our planned route would take us south a little and hoped this would be enough to avoid whatever was coming in. With luck, we'd actually end up riding around the weather.

Left turn onto Fleetwood Drive. A long straight road that would connect us back up to some curvy stuff. Just cruising. Not going particularly fast. As I have been from the start, I'm riding point since I know the way. I sense more than see what I perceive to be movement in my left peripheral vision. And then in less than a blink of an eye, there's a deer jumping across the road right in front (and I mean right in front) of me. I have no time or room to stop or swerve. Maybe I instinctively squeeze the front brake to try and scrub off some speed (I honestly don't know if I did or not). But I know with absolute certainty that one of my worst nightmares is about to happen. Impact. And then I'm flying through the air, up and over the front of my motorcycle. I hit the ground, landing on my left shoulder and knee. Although everyone's first reaction in a crash is to try and stop themselves, I instinctively tuck my hands and arms (there's a reason to watch all those racing videos!) and proceed to roll down the road like a log – albeit at a very rapid rate of travel and rpm's! Earth, sky, earth, sky, earth, sky. It's amazing what thoughts go through your head when you're crashing. On the lighter side, I was thinking that I hoped my helmet wouldn't get all banged up. After all, it was a brand new AGV Rossi Mugello rep that one of my oldest childhood friends had just given me for Christmas. On a more serious note, I hoped I wouldn't make contact with any hard, immovable objects (something to really worry about on the street, but less of a concern when out on a track). I was lucky. I came to a stop in the gravel on the left shoulder without hitting anything (other than the ground!)

Flat on my back, I know this is not one of my better riding days. But I feel OK. No immediate pain anywhere. I seem to be in one piece. Herb is standing over me telling me not to move and wait for medical help. Even though I'm not moving, I can tell that I can move around if I want to. Chris comes over to check me out. I tell them that – all things considered – I feel pretty good. They check for feeling in my limbs, hands, and feet. I pass. First question: How's my motorcycle? Answer: In a ditch on the other side of the road and not looking too good. Second question: What happened to the deer? Answer: In a ditch on the other side of the road and dead. Great, I totaled my Gixxer and killed Bambi.

Someone driving by in a car said he'd call the police and paramedics. Lots of other people driving by stopped and offered to help. You could definitely tell we weren't in New York City! Help showed up pretty quickly. First in the form of a volunteer firefighter in his car. And then the paramedics in an ambulance. They confirmed that it didn't appear that I had broken anything or suffered any kind of real injury. Basically, I was just sore and bruised a little. They were expecting a whole lot worse and were amazed that I could basically get up and walk around on my own. They offered me a ride to the hospital which I declined – I had no desire to sit around in an ER for several hours as low man on the totem pole while more serious cases got the attention they needed and deserved.

Herb and Chris pulled my motorcycle out of the ditch and parked in on the side of the road. I gathered up all my stuff. The Prince William County police officer gave me a ride back to the country store at the intersection of Aden Road and Fleetwood Drive. Chris waited with me there while Herb rode back home to get his truck so we could haul my motorcycle back. We knew it would take Herb at least an hour-and-a-half to get to Arlington and back. So Chris and I just hung out with the locals, all of whom were friendly folks. Some guys trailering a pristine looking vintage 70s Kawasaki stopped. A couple riding two-up on BMW stopped. Told the story of the crash over and over again. Everyone was pretty amazed. Actually, I'm still amazed.

LESSON NUMBER ONE: Both Chris and Herb had given themselves a healthy buffer between riders. As a result, they were both able to avoid any mishap. There is absolutely no reason whatsoever to ride nose-to-ass on public roads. In this case, a chain reaction and all three bikes and riders would have certainly gone down had Chris and Herb been riding right on my tail. Instead – while I'm sure I gave both of them quite a scare – Chris and Herb had plenty of time and space to avoid the carnage. It's not a race out there (that's what tracks are for). And no one is going to question your manhood if you can't "keep up" right behind whomever is in front of you. And remember that the guy riding out front isn't doing so because he's necessarily better, but probably just because he knows the way.

LESSON NUMBER TWO: Protective gear works. It pays to wear it. Although it may not be fashionable and even look silly to some, I wouldn't think of riding without wearing full leathers complete with protective armor – not to mention a helmet, protective boots, and gloves. In this case, all my gear was the difference between walking away relatively unscathed and being transported by ambulance to the ER to be treated for some pretty serious injuries. The only thing I wasn't wearing was my strap-on back protector. Fortunately, my jacket has some built-in back armor (but not as extensive as my back protector). You don't have to invest in the most expensive stuff out there. But certainly making an investment in quality gear can make a difference. No one ever plans or expects to go down. But if you do (and I hope you don't), you'll be wishing you were wearing more than just jeans and a leather jacket. As my friend Gary Jaehne (who has actually hit a deer on three different occasions while riding his motorcycle – I'm just a rookie!) writes in his book Sportbiking: The Real World … "Dress for the crash, not the ride."

LESSON NUMBER THREE: If you want to go deer hunting, get yourself a gun and a permit. It's easier, cheaper, and whole lot less nerve wracking. J

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