Summit Wellness: Gratitude - "As Luck Would Have It"

By Matt Anthony - Summit FM Contributor
 
 
But, hell, I chose it, yeah, I own it 
And it brings me to my knees 
I got lucky. 
“Lucky” -  Elle King 
 
 
It was one-thousand, six-hundred and seventy cubic centimeters of torque-laden mechanical ingenuity.  It was a rare black-and-gold color scheme that prompted instant commentary from onlookers. And it was a machine that commanded respect from the person who climbed onto its saddle. 
 
Donna and I traveled from Akron to Crofton, Maryland, to retrieve it from a dealer. It was a gently-used 2007 Victory Kingpin. I spotted her online and it was lust at first-sight. On that chilly evening, while drooling over photos, I knew instantly that the Honda Shadow Aero in my garage would be relegated to trade-bait status. 
 
But on that March afternoon in 2012, I wasn’t contemplating ‘gratitude’ or ‘thanksgiving’, or ‘luck’. I was sitting on top of that butter-smooth engine and pondering a busy calendar. A small break in the action allowed me to take advantage of a warm day and drop off the ‘Pin for a much-needed oil change. Crossing over Tallmadge Avenue on Brittain Road, I twisted the throttle, marveling at the Victory’s sheer girth and power.  
 
Accelerating towards the light, I suddenly noticed an Akron police cruiser inching past me. And the time that it took me to steal a glance in its direction prohibited me from seeing that green light at the top of the hill flicker to ‘yellow’. 
 
In motorcycle training class, we’re taught to accelerate through a yellow light if possible. ‘Better to get a ticket than to risk a crash,’ they would say. 
 
But on that warm, windy day, I couldn’t get that Akron police cruiser out of my head. What if they start to slow down as the light turns to red, and I soar through it? I couldn’t respond directly because my right hand had already begun squeezing the front brake, and my right boot had already pounded down on the rear brake. 
 
And then I heard the squeal. 
 
To this day, I’m still amazed at how many mental calculations were executed that afternoon in those milliseconds. It was almost as if the left side of my brain were trying to relay to the other side all the possible choices, consequences, and questions to consider: if the crash occurred on the ‘low side, would I slide on the pavement under the light following the same path as my voluptuous Victory beauty, both of us tangled in a heap near the curb? Would my leather jacket and riding trousers offer any protection from Brittain Road’s unforgiving surface? 
 
Or would centrifugal force launch me ‘high side’, hurling me onto the roadway with a resounding thud? How many bones would I break? Would my helmet shatter into a million pieces? (Or would it be my medulla?) How would I get to the emergency room? And what about my bike? 
 
I mean, what in the hell is this going to feel like?! 
 
“Luck is being grateful for what I have.  Gratitude attracts luck and prosperity.” 
 Dr. Martha Beck 
 
But the breezy air of that March afternoon would not be punctured by the sound of shattered plastic, twisted metal, and contorted bones. An ambulance would not have to be called. Rehabilitation and therapy would be avoided. And, I suppose, most importantly, nobody would be required to participate in a life celebration. 
 
Somehow, amidst the complex tasks being performed by the organ inside my Arai helmet, I must have squeezed just the right amount of my front brake. Somewhere within those computations, I pushed down on that rear brake with the exact required degree of pressure.  
 
Because the hideous sound of that squeal ceased. My 2007 Victory Kingpin came to a stop, my front wheel pointed towards the curb, and a red traffic light danced in the breeze directly above my helmet. 
 
I panted. Then, I slowly regained normal respiratory function. While duck-walking my Victory back into a position to start it up again, I felt the most intense stab of gratitude injected into me, initially introducing itself as a blunt-force sledgehammer of ‘luck’.   
 
Oh, and in an almost comical moment of irony, I watched that Akron police cruiser go slowly through that red light and turn left onto Independence Avenue, seemingly ambivalent towards my most fortunate delay with the Afterlife. 
 
Unfortunately, my caregiver status no longer affords me the luxury of participating in one of the most gratifying and life-altering hobbies I’ve ever experienced: motorcycling. In my short 15 years of riding, I’ve seen my share of acquaintances and riding buddies who have not been so lucky. One of my best friends, Brad, continues to suffer the effects of a decision made by a young 19-year-old woman to continue typing her text while her SUV slammed into the rear end of his (newly purchased) 2005 Yamaha FJR. 
 
While the jury may be out as to whether ‘luck’ should be included in the discussion of gratitude, I know which camp I’m in. And while I’m still, to this day, incapable of explaining the physics or the logic behind what I did correctly that day to avoid catastrophe, my ignorance still enables me to be grateful for the outcome.