Here's what happened: I was minding my own business one day riding in a local sand pit I could access by traveling the roads underneath power lines from home. I was only 14 and wouldn't get a license until I was 17. This old dude comes in with a brand-new Harley 350 Sprint enduro and starts telling me how great a rider he is. Well, no one who knew anything would have bought that Harley. I had a little lesson in mind for him. (Bad things happen when a 14-year-old assumes the role of teacher on motorcycles that can go 80 mph.) I led him to the rocky, gnarly, power line roads that I rode, flat-out, every day. I played cat and mouse with him and gradually upped the pace. There was one blind corner where it looked like the road went straight, but really the road took a sharp left. Just before that corner I gapped him so he missed me locking the brakes and sliding around the corner. I went another 100 yards, stopped, and shut off my bike.