Stupid is as Stupid does

After posting about my ex-motorcycle, somebody (it might have been my mom) asked me how stupid I was to even consider getting another bike after my wreck. Well, it’s worse than that. This is actually the third bike I’ve had totaled out from under me. I got hit from behind the first time, and then people pulled out in front of me twice. The third accident hurt the most, and whenever I see a bike hammering down the road I get a flutter in my guts as I remember rolling and rolling on the highway, seeing my facemask explode from an inch away as it punched the concrete, feeling my left shoulder give and the skin on my arms and hands shred. I am scared to ride again, not scared of the motorcycle but of the people on the road with me. As long as I live in the burbs I probably won’t get another bike, but I’ve been thinking of country living and those curvy rural roads would be a thrill. The truth is, I love(d) riding. It’s a form of therapy for me and every writer needs some therapy. What’s yours?