Dirt Biking

This Thanksgiving my husband and I spent the weekend in St. George. I have been to Southern Utah dozens of times but St. George only a few times. We were a little nervous about what was going to happen but everything turned out spectacularly. We got along really well with all of the family, played games, ate really good food, watched movies, read, and I worked on my NaNoWriMo novel, not as much as I planned but enough. One of the best times we had was we went dirt biking.

I have never ridden a dirt bike before. In fact I have been four-wheeling but only about three times. I was excited and nervous. My dad owned a motorcycle and I have some fun mental images of his stories. I also have some not so fun mental images of the wrecks that I have heard about. I had no intention of riding without as much protective gear as I could. Even though it was fairly warm I made sure to wear my canvas jacket and trousers. The uncle who owns the dirt bikes required that everyone wear the helmets, goggles, and gloves.

When we got started I was really nervous because it wasn't like the ground was flat or even. It was probably a good thing there wasn't a speedometer because in my mind I was actually cruising, 30 or 35, when I was probably only going 10. At one point I came up this hill and realized the other side had a drop off. I couldn't get back on the path and headed straight for this cliff. Granted it wasn't really a cliff, it was only two feet, maybe just a foot and a half. I panicked and probably hit the front brake and ended up on the ground with the bike on my leg. One of my legs has a gnarly bruise longer than my hand span while the other is pepper with smaller bruises. My husband panicked when he saw me go down. I injured my pride more but I could see how people get so injured when riding. I am grateful I wore my coat because otherwise I would have ended up leaving part of me behind. I hope I get to do that again.