The 2016 race season had wrapped up, I had just purchased my new race bike for the upcoming year, and I had some great plans for winter training so I could hit the ground running in the 2017 race season. A lot of people suggest training on dirt bikes to improve road racing skills.
"Ride dirt bikes" they said. "It'll be fun" they said. "It's a safer way to learn the skills" they said.
"They" can go fuck themselves.
There, I said it. Dirt bikes may be smaller, the speeds may be slower, but you can get hurt on them just like any other motorcycle, and I hear of a lot more broken bones on dirt bikes than track bikes.
I didn't make it through half of a day on a dirt bike.
The class I was in was designed for road racers to learn skills on traction control and feel, eyes, and other cross skills we need on the bigger bikes. The problem was, looking back on it, I had no experience on a dirt bike - at all. I was assured that wouldn't be a problem - it WAS a problem. Everyone else in the class had ridden dirt bikes, one guy claimed he didn't really "ride dirt" but he owns a dirt bike, so I know he's at least ridden them. I had never even so much as sat on one other than one time taking a TTR down the pits in a mostly straight line on pavement.
My lack of knowledge in a class full of people with prior dirt experience was a problem from the start. Here I was, the only girl, with no experience, holding up the entire group. Double whammy - slowest, AND I'm a girl. Friends and instructors kept giving me advice, and finally towards the end of the morning, I had a lightbulb go off. I realized this was more like riding a barrel racing horse (something I had taken lessons in years ago), and all of sudden things started to come together. My pace increased dramatically, as did my confidence. I was having to think about it, but I was getting it.
Problem being, I was still in a class of competitive (ie fellow racers) dudes, and they still saw me as the slow girl in the class. As I was coming into a corner, sliding a bit, but holding my bike up, one of said dudes tries to force a pass on the outside of me. That would have been fine before my lightbulb went off, but now, I was going a lot faster. He didn't account for reality, and instead rode with his assumptions that I was still the slow girl. As I'm sliding a bit, but holding it, he tries to force his pass, running into my outside and pushing against me. Not like he plowed me, but the combo of my bike, and now him and and his offering counter force caused me to crash. Somewhere in there, my leg took the brunt of all of these forces, and despite decent motocross boots, it broke.
I felt the distinct pop. At first I hoped it was just a dislocation. Turns out it was not. The owner of the property is an EMT, he got the boot off and a pillow cast on, and another friend hauled me off to the ER. Unfortunately, like many ERs, this one considers "bikers" to be stupid idiots who "keep them in business" (literally what one of the on site nurses said to as we were getting moved to the room). They x-rayed the leg, it was broke, but it wasn't deemed bad enough for immediate treatment, so they put on a soft cast and sent me home with some pain meds.
I spent the rest of the weekend at the dirt school, figuring I'd gain what information I could, plus, at least there would be other people around to help me if I really needed it - not something I would have at home.
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