I looped around Mom's block, a block I rode around a few million times growing up. The far corner, I had a bad accident on when I was seven or eight. It's a steep downhill corner, and the big deal among the boys in the neighborhood was being able to ride down it without applying brakes.
The first time I attempted this feat, I froze with fear, drove straight instead of curving, ran into the side of a boat and flew into the woods. I still have scars from where my cheek was pierced and my knuckles scraped.
I remember lying in the woods I'd landed in, the air completely kicked out of my lungs, and realizing the people who's boat I had just assailed didn't know me. I figured I was on my own to get up and get out of the woods if I wanted help. To my astonishment, the woman who lived in that house came out aflutter with worry, scooped me and my bike into her station wagon and if I hadn't been able to tell her where I lived, I think she intended to drive me straight to the ER.
Taking that corner today, I have to say it was my second pass before I managed to leave the brakes alone. A glance at my cycling computer as I started to slow down straightening out at the end of it showed my speed dropping from 27 mph. It's a steep-ass corner and just coasting you accelerate with alarming speed. If you're not prepared to really lean over, you'll never make it.
When I hit almost 43 mph in a 30, by the way, a pickup truck passed me, accelerating hard as if I were in his way. I was going 13 over, but by god he was gonna be faster than that no matter what.
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