I finally did it.

I researched, I picked out gear, I signed up for the MSF, I found a bike, insurance, and I bought it all.I brought my bike home on a rainy Sunday afternoon attached to a nice rented u-haul motorcycle trailer with my neighbor and his oversized truck to do the towing.I spent a half hour waiting at the RMV only to be told that it was an express branch and that I couldn’t register and title there. I needed to go a half hour away to the next one.I made it in time to stand in line for an hour and a half before being seen. I had done it; I registered.I came home with my trophy, a shiny new license plate to mount on my new blue steed. I also had a package awaiting my arrival, a pair of frame sliders I had ordered. Figuring it would be safest to install them before I had even started the bike up increased my excitement that it could all be done today.After my neighbors help (and tools) I was ready to go. I donned my armor and prepared for battle. Initial checks were green on fluids, lines, and lights. The moment was upon us, a great journey to begin a life anew.Started her up and listened for just a moment to appreciate the sound I would be partnered with from now on. The sweet steady ringing through my helmet gave me a feeling of joy and confidence. I was ready.Once I reached the top of my mountainous driveway to flat ground I was prepared to start. The bike however was unforgiving to my novice control and was not pleased with my attempts at take off. I stalled over and over but I was determined. After 5 minutes of attempt and fail I had finally gotten the ratio of clutch to engine just right to take off. Not as smooth as I had hoped but it was all coming up CJDizzle.A small park with public roads and rarely tread upon was just across the street. It was perfect for practice. A long straight narrow that lead up a small incline to a 50’ square with a path through the middle, perfect to do near constant turns and practice.The first few were rough, feeling the bike and learning to harness its power. To tame the handling and pull of the turns smoothly and without losing balance. The throttle continuously calling to be pulled harder. The bike had a mind of its own, always wanting to run free. I held on and kept the beast down. There is a power lurking in her just waiting to be unleashed.The turns became smoother, the straightaways were becoming my playground. A chance to hit a mighty speed of 25, good bing me the opportunity to practice changing gears. Upshifting and downshifting became my next great quests. Matching engine speed after a clutch pull was to be my conquest. I was even managing to get the bike going from a full stop in the first four or five tries. I was conquering.Night and darkness were quickly approaching. I had spent hours on the battlefield, constantly scouting and patrolling its lengths. A few more rounds and I would be set. Then, it all happened at once.Completing my figure eights the beast saw her chance. She leapt forward with a mighty roar as my wrist slipped just so. In the middle of a left turn going about ten miles and hour she lunges forward out from under me. I saw and felt it all happening. She had thrown me from her back, my faithful companion. How could she betray me like this, I realized it was my fault. I had not tamed her as I should. An unassuming flick of the wrist while turning had let her see her potential as she tried to dash.The next thing I knew I was on the ground. She lay beside me quietly. I had taken off my gloves to try and get a better feel for the throttle and it proved to be my downfall. This mighty warrior acquired a boo boo on his palm. A mighty grain of rice sized wound. My knee had a scuff and my pants slightly stained by the road. But I was not defeated.I rushed to my ride, lifted her quickly and checked for her own injuries. A few drops of her life liquids had come out, but other than that she appeared fine. Exhausted herself in a fit of glory and reckoning. I thanked my foresight in installing three sliders preemptive to my riding, for they saved her more than she knows.As I attempt to get going again my foot rests upon her peg something feels off. I look down in a fit of shock. Her shifter peg is missing. Oh, woe is me! I inspect the site of our lay and find it. Amputated and alone, snapped from the center. I quickly collect it and ponder our next move. She is injured but determined. Enthusiastically I hold down the clutch while simultaneously reaching down the my hand and placing the now naked shifter into first.A first try take off never felt better. I rode her home to further inspect her health. Her rear sight on the side of impact was loosened and she flaunted a very small dent in the gas tank. The sliders were gouged and scraped, having fulfilled their eternal duties of protecting her. I breathe a sigh of relief and I will display her proudly. She now knows who is truly in control, though she may try to buck, I will break her.Today is a new day, and conveniently there is a part shop directly on my way home from work. I will acquire the part and install a new peg for tonight. She will be rode again. Oh yes, she will be rode again.Tl:dr - got a bike, installed frame sliders, practiced for a , took a slow turn and accidentally flicked my wrist too hard and lost control. Bike and I went down and I lost the shifter peg. Repairs will be made, glory will come at last. via /r/motorcycles https://www.reddit.com/r/motorcycles/comments/8hwfb4/i_finally_did_it/?utm_source=ifttt