It was a cool spring night. Not too cold, but not hot enough to ride without a jacket and helmet. She had just gotten her motorcycle endorsement a couple months ago and wanted to ride my bike. More experience on a more powerful bike. I had been promising to take her out for awhile now, and just kept putting it off. I had an argument with one of the girls I ride with and decided it was a good night to let Carly ride. My sister didn’t have a bike, this other girl did. She was always borrowing my bike when I took my boyfriend’s bike out because she didn’t like her own. Well, darlin, sorry. Next time, don’t buy a little 250.
I invited my good friend and rider, James, out to help monitor my sister while she rode around the high school parking lot. James had been riding for about 10 years now, so he had an extensive knowledge on the matter. I trusted his judgment. We sat on the back of Carly’s car and enjoyed good conversation while she made circles around the lot. Every once in awhile she would ride over to us and ask how she was doing. It was weird seeing my sister on my bike, but in a good way. I made her wear all of her gear, despite her protests. She was still learning to ride; the gear was a necessity. Carly had my old solid black helmet strapped securely over her head, and wore her thick nylon black and white Icon jacket and matching black Icon gloves. The gloves had a hard, thick plastic protector covering the knuckles. They were a bit bulky, but she bought them herself. When she rode a little out from the light poles, it was really hard to see her because of all the black. Thank God the plastics on my bike were mostly white.
She was heading in our direction and veered off to make a figure-8 around two poles. She was a bit shakey making the left hand turns, and had to put her foot down to steady herself. After rounding the poles, she made a left and headed for the south end of the parking lot. She made another left around a median and rode the curb toward the east lot. I closed my eyes for a brief minute and allowed a yawn, when James leaped off the back of the car and ran in the direction of my sister. I missed everything that just happened, but I hopped off the car and hauled ass after him. I looked passed James' back to find Carly. She was pacing in the grass, frantically trying to pull the helmet off her head. The bike lay several feet from her, lying on its side. My sister finally got her helmet off and sat down on the curb. She was breathing heavily and crying. James got to my sister first and checked to make sure she was ok. When she nodded at him, he made his way to my bike to pick it up and walk it back onto the concrete. I reached my sister a few seconds after he did, and I stopped to ask what happened. She had gotten too close to the curb. Before she could veer off to the left, she tensed up and the front tire hopped the curb. She hit a bump in the ground and was sent flying over the handlebars a good 10 feet. My friend joined me in talking to my sister. She was adamant on going home. She didn’t want to ride anymore. My friend and I couldn’t allow that. She had gotten her endorsement for a reason. Not to just give up now. My friend helped her up. She had to get back on the bike to overcome her fear of laying a bike down. This may have been the first time, but it definitely wasn’t going to be last. She calmed down a bit more before finally agreeing to jump back on the bike.
She shoved the helmet on, took a deep breath, and hit the ignition button.
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