You're riding
gracefully in the
Jemez Mountains of
Northern New Mexico, on your
CBR 600 F3, or maybe your
Ducati 900SS. You're really in the
groove today,
everything just feels
right. You flip
delicately through a little
chicane, and the
bike is just
beautifully
responsive. Whoop-oop, you're through and lining up for the next turn.
Yeah.
Another left sweeper--beautiful! You're remembering all over again why you love motorcyling. You brake hard for a hairpin right, and then accellerate.
Wow, it looks like another chicane ahead - you love these right-left-right pathways. You accelerate.
Then brake again, as late as you can manage. Ooohhh, yes! right-left-oh my God.
You hear the horrifying Song of the Sausage Creature echo through your mind for a moment.
Gravel. Right there; it was in the shadow of a tree, you didn't see it. The traction of your Pirelli Dragon radial gives out at 50 miles an hour, then as the tire clears the gravel, it regains traction violently, pitching you off and over. Your helmet smashes into the tree and everything goes black.